


Sing

by mahbecks



Series: Soulmark Alternate Universe Stories [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chill XV, Explicit Sexual Content, First Times, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Pre-Story, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9876764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: "People cannot have soulmates," Ignis said. “It’s illogical. How could there be one perfect person out there for each of us?"“You’re right, Ignis,” his teacher replied. “It is illogical. It doesn’t make much sense. And yet we are marked, nonetheless, chosen by the Crystal to bond with that one person who makes our heart sing.”*Mostly canon compliant story with soulmate AU elements. Set pre-game.





	1. Pragma

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate summary: becks can't stop writing about these boys, so here's a tropey, fluffy soulmate story to satisfy her need to give everyone in this god damn fandom cavities.
> 
> This is mostly finished. I am just editing and reviewing things, so I will post chapters as I finish :)

“But that just doesn’t make any sense.”

An eleven year-old Ignis Scientia stared up at his teacher doggedly, daring her to contradict him.

“Can you explain what you mean, Ignis?” the woman asked, folding her hands in front of her as she invited him to share his thoughts with the class.

“People cannot have soulmates,” he said after a minute. “It’s illogical. How could there be one perfect person out there for each of us? And what happens if you get it wrong? What if you start dating the wrong person? The entire system would become uncoordinated and faulty.” He pushed his glasses up with a finger, waiting for her rebuttal.

“You’re right, Ignis,” she replied. To his surprise, the teacher smiled at him. “It _is_ illogical. It doesn’t make much sense. And yet…” She pulled back the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a small, scrawling mark across the inside of her wrist. “...we are marked, nonetheless, chosen by the Crystal to bond with that one person who makes our heart sing.”

“That looks like a tattoo to me,” another boy piped up, echoing Ignis’ skepticism.

“It is not,” the teacher said firmly. “I received this mark when I was eighteen. It appeared shortly after my birthday, in the middle of the night. I woke up the next morning, and there it was, as clearly as you see it now. I did not know it then, but it was the name of the man I was later to marry, his exact signature.”

A girl in the front row sighed, a longing expression on her face. “Did you know who he was?”

“I didn’t,” she admitted. “He lived on the very outskirts of Insomnia, and I lived near the Citadel. It wasn’t until we both went to university that we met.”

“And does he have your name?”

The teacher nodded. “He does! In the exact same spot on his wrist.”

“And it’s _your_ signature,” Ignis said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It is.” The teacher cleared her throat then, signifying the end of the discussion. “Now, as Ignis has pointed out, logic dictates that not everyone in the world can have a soulmate. Not everyone receives a mark at the age of eighteen, and some of us never receive a mark at all. Why is that? Why would the Crystal choose to bestow some of us with this gift and not others? Is there some sort of selection process, some criteria that we must meet before the Crystal approves of us?”

She shrugged.

“No one is certain, though scholars have been theorizing for many years,” she continued. “However, there are some things about the process that we _do_ know.” She turned around to the projector screen, using a small remote to advance the slides she had prepared for the class. Ignis dutifully opened his notebook to a new page, pencil at the ready.

“First, people living within the boundaries of Insomnia are the most likely to receive a soulmark. We think this is due simply to proximity. The Crystal resides in the heart of the city; it seems to be more familiar with those Crown citizens who live within its immediate protection. Similarly, those people living in the very outskirts of Lucis are the least likely to receive a soulmark. People who are not Lucian by birth occasionally receive a soulmark, but it is very rare and considered a special circumstance.

“Secondly, those people who serve the Crown, who put their lives on the line for the protection of the King and his family, are also more likely to receive a soulmark. We believe this is because the Crystal wishes to protect these brave men and women by giving them a partner who will fight their very hardest to protect them, and by extension, the Royal Family. Nearly everyone in the Crownsguard has a soulmark, often to another member of the retinue.”

The teacher paused as someone in the back raised their hand.

“Does the King have a soulmate?”

The woman smiled. “I cannot know for certain, Tullius, as it is considered gauche to ask someone about their soulmark,” she replied. “However, it is rumored that Queen Aulea was the King’s soulmate, and that when she passed away, so did his mark.”

Ignis thrust his hand into the air, not waiting to be called upon before he began to speak. “So the marks disappear if your soulmate dies?” he asked. The teacher nodded. “But what if your soulmate dies before you meet them?”

“If they die before you receive your soulmark, then logic dictates you would not receive it. If they were to pass on after you received your soulmark, but before you met them, logic also dictates that your mark would disappear.”

“Can a person have two soulmarks?” the girl in front asked. “If the first one dies.”

“It is...rare, but not unheard of,” the teacher allowed.

Ignis felt a surge of triumph at this admission. “So then it’s not really a soulmate at all,” he concluded. “If you can have more than one of them, then it’s more of a suggestion of who you _should_ be with than who you _have_ to be with.”

“Not exactly, Ignis.” The teacher returned to her slides. “There are certain benefits that come with having a soulmark, especially if the couple goes through the bonding process. That is marriage, for most people, though others choose to go about it slightly differently, depending upon their circumstances. Once you have a soulmark, you become attuned to their thoughts; it isn’t telepathy, per se, but you _can_ sense what your partner is thinking. This extends to their emotions as well. Some individuals can even locate their partner in space, regardless of the distance between them. The partners become attuned to each other, hence the reason why one soulmark is said to _sing_ to another.

“These benefits do not extend to people with whom you do not share a mark. It would be as any other relationship would be - fulfilling, loving, caring...but without the sense of completeness that comes with being soulbound to another. Thus the Crystal is, in a very real sense, providing a protective mechanism. It not compulsory, however. If, for whatever reason, someone wished to _not_ bond with their soulmate, there is no rule requiring them do so.”

“Does that happen very often?”

“Not at all, Livia. It is incredibly rare, so much so that I cannot think of a single instance of a soulmarked couple _not_ being partnered. The Crystal matches us with an individual that it knows will complement us, someone who will make us happy. Why would you fight it?”  

Ignis considered this for a moment. He supposed the teacher did have a point; divorce and adultery were almost unheard of amongst soulbound couples. But for other relationships, such things were relatively common. His own parents had never received any sort of mark; they had argued all the time, over matters both large and small. In a way, he had been grateful to come and live with his uncle while he completed his training to be the Prince’s chamberlain.

His uncle had no mark, and had never expressed any desire for one.

Realizing that someone had asked another question, he tuned back into the lecture.

“Yes, Faustina, I think it is safe to say that the majority of you will receive a soulmark,” the teacher was saying, answering a question posed by a girl on the other side of the classroom. “But you will not know until you are of age and your mark appears.”

“And when is that?”

“The Crystal decides when to gift a person with their soulmark. The most common ages are sixteen, eighteen, and twenty, though it is not unheard of to be given a mark much later in life.”

“Why does it vary at all?”

Again, the teacher shrugged. “We don’t know the answer to that, Commodus. The Crystal does as the Crystal does. However, some psychological researchers have conducted observational studies regarding the matter. They have found several variables that correlate with the age at which people are given a soulmark. The strongest of these is maturity. The Crystal seems to sense when its people are ready to receive their marks.”

She spoke about the Crystal as if it were a sentient thing, instead of a rock formation. Ignis wasn’t sure what to make of that. The entire discussion, if he was honest, was leaving a bad taste in his mouth, and he couldn’t fathom why it was being included in the curriculum.

Why did the Crystal get to decide who they would spend the rest of their lives with? Was he not capable of making his own decisions in that regard? And why did it choose only some people to bestow with a mark? The teacher had been unable to convince him there was a reason for the Crystal’s decisions at all. The entire process seemed unfair to him, and somewhat arrogant. It was as if the Crystal was deciding, quite arbitrarily, who got to be happy and who was forced to find happiness on their own.

He hoped that he didn’t get a soulmark.

He didn’t need a rock picking out his life partner.

* * * * *

It would appear that the Crystal had other plans.

Shortly after his sixteenth birthday, Ignis awoke to the most peculiar sensation. It was early morning, the window in his bedroom lit with the faint glow of the rising sun. He had perhaps a half an hour before his alarm rang, signaling that he had to get up for the day. But it wasn’t the light or the hour that had awoken him. It was his side - it was _itching._ And this wasn’t a normal itch, either, one that could be satisfied with a cursory scratch. This was a fierce, aching itch; it felt as if someone was digging something blunt into his skin, not deep enough to be painful and draw blood, but with just enough pressure to drive him mad.

Frowning, he forced himself out of bed and into his small bathroom, flipping the light so that he could see the mirror. He pulled the hem of his nightshirt up, turning to the side, and his breath caught in his throat.

There it was.

A soulmark.

He squinted at his ribcage, trying to make out the name. It quickly proved an impossible task, and he returned to his bedside table long enough to grab his glasses before taking another, closer look.

Still, he could not read it.

The handwriting was more of a scrawl than a signature, almost completely illegible. He thought that he recognized an “s” at the end, but given how commonly Lucian names ended in that particular letter, it wasn’t much help. He scowled, letting his shirt drop down. _The irony,_ he thought to himself as he prepared to take a shower.

He hadn’t wanted a soulmark at all. He would have been happy to have never received one. But the Crystal had thought otherwise, and in a fit of caprice, had gifted him with a soulmark that he could not even read.

It would have been funny if he weren’t so annoyed.


	2. Ludus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind words on the first part! It's good to know everyone loves these boys as much as me :)

For a while, Ignis was far too busy to be concerned with the idea of his prospective soulmate.

The prince had started high school that year, and Ignis’ duties had increased tenfold. He was responsible for getting Noctis to and from his classes, writing up study schedules for him, and making sure he was properly preparing for his exams. If he did not understand his homework, Ignis was there to tutor him, and if he needed assistance on a project, it was Ignis whom he called. Along with these academic tasks, he was also responsible for more mundane chores, such as ensuring the prince’s laundry was finished, cleaning his apartment, and making meals for him. On top of that, the King had decided that Ignis’ weapons training, which up until that point had been less-than-carefully monitored, needed to be intensified, and he had been ordered to train with the prince’s sworn shield, Gladiolus.

What little time he had had before this year to spend in idle contemplation was now greatly diminished, and he hardly thought it wise to waste on the idea of a soulmate.

On the contrary, his classmates’ thoughts seemed preoccupied with little else.

Ignis was one of the first people he knew to receive his soulmark. But shortly thereafter, as more and more of them came of age in the eyes of the Crystal, his peers began to receive their marks as well. Some were proud of them, boldly showing them off to the rest of the class. Others were more reticent, keeping them hidden beneath layers of clothing unless specifically asked about them. Whether or not they chose to display their mark to the public, however, everyone was curious. Several times, that curiosity was turned on Ignis, but he gave politely ambiguous answers to every question he received, and they would move on to someone else.

It was an occasion of special celebration whenever someone announced that they had finally received their mark. Each proclamation was met with great delight, a thousand questions asked about the person’s intentions. Would they tell their soulmate immediately? Did they know them, or would they have to search for them? Where was the mark located? What did it look like? Though their teacher had told them that talking about soulmarks with other people was highly taboo, the idea hadn’t seemed to have taken hold of their class. There were no holds barred when it came to the topic, and no one was immune from the questioning.

Faustina, the pretty girl who had asked if everyone would receive a soulmark, ended up being soulbound to Commodus, the curly-haired boy who sat just behind Ignis. His lab partner, Tullius, ended up bound to a girl named Julia who lived down the street from him. Another acquaintance, Antonia, discovered the name of her closest friend, Livia, written upon her collarbone, and the two grew even more inseparable.

It was almost a game, figuring out who was matched to whom.

Not that his classmates made it very difficult, considering their eagerness to reveal their soulmarks to one another. Soon Ignis realized that he was one of the few remaining enigmas in the class. It was a bit annoying, really, to consistently be the object of their curiosity. He would have told them the truth, if only to make them stop with their noisome questions and blunt, obtrusive stares, but he didn’t know himself.

At first, he had attempted to discover who his soulbound was. He had looked over the handwriting of his classmates - thinking that they were perhaps the most likely candidates -  trying to match their names with the one emblazoned upon his ribcage. But, much to his relief, there did not seem to be a positive match. This was corroborated by the fact that none of his peers had approached him with _his_ name written on their body. It would seem that his soulmate was someone he knew outside of his school, if he knew them at all.

It was also entirely possible that his soulmate had not received their mark yet. He saw no reason why the two marks would appear simultaneously, and when he inquired about it to a teacher, the man had confirmed his suspicions.

Thus had his brief period of investigation ended, nearly as quickly as it had began. He was quite happy to forget about it, and focus on his immediate responsibilities, such as the prince.

To his surprise, however, Noctis was also insatiably curious about his new mark.

The prince asked him about it at least once a week - had he discovered anything about it, and did he have any idea to whom he was bound? It had surprised Ignis at first; Noctis had never shown any sort of interest in the topic of soulmates before. But then again, he was quickly approaching the age when most people were gifted with their marks. Perhaps he was coming around to the idea.

Ignis wasn’t certain that the prince would ever get to be with his soulmate, however. It was rumored that the King was considering marrying his only son to the Oracle, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. From a political standpoint, Ignis was perplexed by the gossip; it made little sense except as a gesture to appease the relentless Empire. But it was not his place to publicly approve or disapprove of the policy, especially given that it had not been officially confirmed. Above that, Regis was still King and the rule of Lucis was his. It would have been improper for him to announce his own opinion. He was not Regis’ advisor.

“Hey, Specs.”

Ignis looked up from the book he was perusing to find that Noctis was staring at him. There was something tentative in his blue eyes, an unspoken question lingering between them. “Yes?” he prompted.

“What’s your soulmark look like?”

“It is a signature, Noct, of the person with whom I am intended to bond.”

“I know that,” the prince said impatiently. “I meant - can I see it?”

 _I shouldn’t,_ Ignis thought to himself. It was considered highly improper to show one’s soulmark to another, unless of course you were showing it to your soulbound partner. But this was Noctis, and the boy was just nursing a healthy curiosity in the matter. There was nothing harmful about that, was there?

A small, self-serving part of his mind also reasoned that perhaps Noctis would recognize the signature he bore on his ribcage.

He carefully untucked his shirt and lifted it just enough to show the prince the small black mark on his side. Noctis stared at it for a moment, no hint of recognition on his face, and then looked away, shaking his head. “It’s so… small.”

“They are typically not very large,” Ignis informed him, letting go of his shirt and tucking it back into his pants. “Most marks are easily concealable.”

“But why would you want to conceal them?”

“Mostly as a matter of privacy. Even though the bonding process occurs because of the Crystal, the Crown keeps no official records of soulmates. Some couples prefer to keep their relationship status to themselves.”

“Is that why not all soulmates get married?”

“That is one common reason, yes.”

Noctis considered this for a moment, and then shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to keep it to myself,” he said.

“No?”

“I would want everyone to know who my soulmate was,” he explained. “I would want everyone to know who it was that was making me happy.”

“Even if an enemy was to take advantage of that knowledge?”

The prince scrunched up his nose at that. “An enemy?”

“Say… the Empire?”

Understanding dawned in those blue eyes then, and Noctis sighed. “You ruined it.”

“My apologies,” Ignis said lightly, “but it is my duty to think that way.”

“Is that why you’ve kept yours hidden? So no one could take advantage of you?”

“No, that isn’t it.”

How to explain?

Ignis did not speak of his soulmark because he was not particularly enthused with the idea of its existence. But he couldn’t very well tell Noctis that; the prince was entirely enamored with the thought that somewhere in the world, there existed a person specifically destined to be his soulmate. And he didn’t want to ruin that for him. There was already so much for the prince to do, so much resting upon his shoulders as the future King of Lucis; Ignis would allow him these small moments of happiness if and when he could.

“I don’t know who my soulmate is,” he said instead. “I can hardly just go up to people and ask them to sign their name on a card for me. _That_ is why I keep it hidden. And until I have discovered whose signature is my soulmark, it will remain that way.”

“But aren’t you curious?”

A compelling question.

Was he still curious? Had his interest not died after his initial failure to discover whose name he bore? Despite his misgivings about the idea of soulmates, did he want to know who the Crystal had selected for him?

A large part of him answered with a vehement “no”.

But a very small, deliberately insouciant part of him _did_ want to know.

Perhaps that part of him wanted to know simply for the sake of knowing, just so that he could say that he was aware of the facts. Or maybe it reasoned that it was always better to know something than to not know it, even if he had no intention of acting upon that knowledge.

Whichever was truly the case, it did nothing to change the fact that, for now at least, he had to be content with mere guesswork.   

Noctis’ voice drew Ignis from his thoughts. “Hello? Specs?”

“Hmm?”

“You aren’t curious at all?”

“To be honest, I’m more curious about why you are confusing mitosis with meiosis,” he replied, tapping the worksheet the prince was supposed to be completing. “Do you not understand the difference?”

The prince looked down at his paper, sighed, and began erasing his answers. “I hate biology,” he said glumly.

“Unfortunately, you will have to pass it in order to move on to chemistry next year.”

“Yay, me.”

Ignis suppressed his bemusement at the prince’s lack of enthusiasm and launched into a lecture comparing and contrasting the two biological processes. Noctis, who was very bright despite his somewhat lackadaisical work ethic, quickly understood his mistakes and set about fixing them, leaving Ignis free to go back to his book.

He leaned back in his chair, studying his young liege for a moment.

This was his calling, his life’s duty. He had been tasked with the job of caring for the prince, of helping him succeed at all of his endeavors and making sure that he was well-equipped for whatever tasks might be demanded of him. He did it well, if he did say so himself, and of late, he realized that he had unexpectedly been gifted with the prince’s friendship in return. The two of them, prince and chamberlain, had their own unique sort of bond that would last for as long as either of them should live. Who needed a soulmate when he had such a satisfying life already? It was hard work, yes, but surely there was no greater fulfillment than seeing all of his efforts pay off when Noctis aced an examination, or when he eloquently gave a speech or report to the members of the court.

He was needed, he was respected, and he was liked.

What more could a man ask for?

* * * * *

Gladio stared at his reflection in the mirror, hesitant.

It had finally happened - he had been gifted with a soulmark. He had felt it earlier that day, a strange, prickling sensation at his side that hadn’t been quite a tickle but wasn’t a cramp either. It had come on in the middle of a training session, and he’d been so surprised that the prince had actually landed a hit on him. He’d ended their sparring early, knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate anymore, and returned to his apartment as quickly as he could.   

But now that he was here, standing in his bathroom, he was stalling.

For what?

Was he afraid of what he would read on his skin? Was he worried that it would be someone he hated?

He didn’t think that was it. He’d never heard of anyone being bonded to someone whom they disliked. The Crystal paired people together in a complementary fashion, after all, and it had been doing its job just fine for hundreds of years.

It wasn’t going to screw up just as he came of age.

Gladio had thought he might get his soulmark when he turned sixteen, but an entire year had passed since then. Still, he’d told himself not to panic; lots of people didn’t receive a mark until they were eighteen, twenty even. Hell, Nyx Ulric hadn’t gotten one until he was twenty- _three._

“Just do it,” he muttered to himself. “Just look at it.”

He reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, preparing to pull it over his head. He was ready for this - he was _more_ than ready. His future soulmate had occupied his every dream for as long as he could remember. He had _ached_ to know who it was, or if he would even be given a soulmate. He desperately wanted to love someone as his father had loved his mother.

And the day was finally here.

No more waiting.

In one quick movement, he ripped off the shirt and let it fall to the floor, hesitating only a moment before he turned to the side to read the name where it was scrawled on his ribs, right beside his rapidly beating heart.

There it was. The letters were small and precise, slightly angular but still delicately formed, the entire name slanted a bit to the right.

_Ignis._

Suddenly, he felt the need to sit, and he sank down to the edge of his bathtub, exhaling a low, shaky breath.

Ignis. Ignis Scientia. Noctis’ advisor.

Gladio knew Ignis. They sparred on a regular basis, and Gladio had been exclusively responsible for the other’s weapons training for the past year. Over those months, they had developed an easy camaraderie that had slowly morphed into friendship. They began to meet out of the training rooms. Occasionally, they would discuss the prince’s training or whatever recent news was buzzing around the Citadel. Other times, they would debate the plotlines of novels they had both read, giving each other suggestions for new materials to read. They did this over coffee or food, often finding the time to meet up several times a week despite their busy schedules.

He _knew_ Ignis.

He wouldn’t have to go and search for his soulmate.

The man was right there, had been in front of him for what felt like his entire life.

In a way, he wasn’t surprised. It made sense that the Crystal would want to pair him and Ignis up, given their proximity to one another. Now that they were matched, they could protect each other even better and serve Noctis with less hesitation. The bond would see to that.

It was then that Gladio realized that he was _happy_ it was Ignis.

He had never cared whether his soulmate was a man or woman. Nor had he ever worried about what his soulmate would do for a living, what their hobbies would be, or what they would look like. He would have loved them just the same.

But _Ignis._

Ignis was attractive. _More_ than just attractive.

Gladio had always thought so, to be honest, though he’d never mentioned as much to his friend. He wasn’t blind; he knew what the guy looked like. He was perfect, utterly beautiful with his long-lashed eyes, full lips, and a lean, lithe form. And more than being just physically alluring, Ignis was charming as well - intelligent, witty, and kind, even if his sense of humor was a bit dry and he tended towards strictness.

Ignis was the type of partner who would challenge him, who wouldn’t let him be less than his best. He was no slouch.

Gladio almost couldn’t believe it.

How had he gotten so lucky?

He pushed himself to his feet, retrieving his shirt as he did so and pulling it back over his head. There was only one thought on his mind, and that was to go and find Ignis and see if his mark had appeared just yet. Surely it had - he was older than Ignis by about a year, which meant that Ignis was sixteen now. He was certain that the other’s mark had appeared, his own signature etched onto the other’s skin as permanently as a tattoo.

He looked down at his phone as he left his apartment. It was eight thirty-four. Where would Ignis be at this time of night?

 _Probably with Noctis,_ he reasoned. _Doing homework, or something like that._

His steps quick and sure, he set off in the direction of the prince’s rooms.

* * * * *

Ignis frowned when he heard a knock at the door. It seemed a little late to be calling on the prince. Was something wrong? Had something happened? He rose to his feet uncertainly, moving to answer the knock when Noctis didn’t even look up from his video game.

It was Gladiolus Amicitia.

Ignis blinked in surprise. “Gladio,” he murmured.

The other smiled at him in a strange sort of way. “Hey,” he breathed.

“Did you need Noct for something?” Ignis asked, frowning. He half-turned to look back at his charge, but the other hadn’t so much as glanced up. He snorted in amusement. “I’m afraid you’ll have to tear him away from his game.”

“Ah, no,” Gladio replied, shaking his head. “I’m actually here to see you.”

“Me?” Ignis raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Could I… could we talk somewhere? In private?”

Ignis stared at his friend for a moment, caught off guard by the question. What would Gladio wish to say to him that couldn’t be said in front of Noctis? And why was he so eager? He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as Ignis stood there in silence.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Just let me grab my coat.”

He retreated into the apartment, grabbing his jacket and informing the prince that he would be back in a moment. Noctis grunted in acknowledgement of this, and told him to take his time.

Gladio led them a short distance down the hallway and into an empty conference room, the windows left open to allow in the cool, night breeze. He left the room’s lights off, the pale, glimmering aureole of the city below more than enough for them to see one another. Ignis took a seat in one of the chairs, drumming his fingers absently on the table as he waited for Gladio to speak. But his friend remained silent, staring out at the city with his back to Ignis.

The quiet stretched on, seconds turning into minutes, and Ignis pursed his lips in annoyance. This was getting to be ridiculous. Gladio had wanted to speak with him, yes? Then what was he waiting for? It wasn’t like him to be shy.

This was seeming more and more strange.

“Gladio?” he finally prompted.

The other started and wheeled around, so fast it was as if he’d forgotten Ignis was there.

Ignis quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing more.

“Shit, sorry,” Gladio muttered, moving to sit in the chair to Ignis’ right.

“What is it you wished to speak about?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on.”

Gladio stared at him for a moment, his amber eyes unreadable in the dim light. “Do you have a soulmark?”

That was the second time today he’d been asked about his mark. A coincidence?

“I do,” he replied, curious despite himself about where this conversation was going. Noctis’ interest was understandable, but Gladio…? What did he mean by this?

“I got mine today,” Gladio admitted. He wasn’t looking at Ignis. Instead, his gaze was locked on his hands where they clasped tightly in front of him. “Appeared while I was training.”

Ah.

Ignis thought he understood the other’s excitement now. Gladio was eager to share the news - for the bestowal of a mark _was_ a coming of age, of sorts - with a friend. Ignis, as someone both close to Gladio in age and a friend who lived in the Citadel, was the natural choice. Perhaps he wanted to discuss ways he could approach his soulmate, how to broach the topic with them. Or maybe he didn’t know who they were, and wanted help finding them. Ignis thought it might be the latter - Gladio seemed very excited, jittery in a happily apprehensive sort of way, but also a bit subdued, as if he didn’t know what to do with this excitement.

Well, he was certainly happy to help - if he could spare the time for it, of course. He offered this assistance to Gladio, but to his surprise, his friend frowned at him in confusion.

“No, I know who they are,” the larger boy said quietly. “I know where to find them.”

Now it was Ignis’ turn to frown. “Then I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he replied. “You seem nervous. Do you think they won’t like you?”

“No, that’s-” Gladio broke off, his expression morphing quickly from uncertainty to dismay. “Do you know who _your_ soulmate is? You said you have a mark, yeah?”

Ignis blinked at this abrupt change in the direction of their conversation. “What?”

Gladio repeated the questions, a slight tremor to his deep voice

“I do have a mark, but no, I don’t know who they are.”

The look Gladio sent him then made Ignis intensely uncomfortable. He had to fight the urge to squirm away from the surprised, _hurt_ gleam in his friend’s eyes.

He didn’t understand - had he said something wrong? Did Gladio think he was lying to him, purposefully obscuring the truth?

“Gladio-”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the other interjected, cutting him off. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he displayed only when he was at his most uncertain. “I guess I just thought… you know…”

“You thought what, Gladio?” Ignis had to suppress a huff of frustration. It was nearly impossible to tell what his friend was trying to say. How was he supposed to help if he didn’t know what the other was thinking?

“I just thought…” Gladio looked up at him then, and Ignis recoiled from the intensity of his gaze. “You really don’t know who your soulmate is?”

“No, I don’t,” Ignis replied. “Gladio - you know I would tell you if I knew.”

“I guess.”

“You _guess_?” His brows snapped down, mildly insulted that Gladio thought he might be lying.

Gladio looked away, as if unable to bear his annoyance. “I should go.”

Ignis was unsure of how to respond. Hesitantly, he reached out for the other’s shoulder, thinking perhaps to comfort him physically in the absence of appropriate words. But then he thought better of it, and retracted his hand, looking away and feeling foolish. He was no good at this sort of thing. And what could he do to fight the obvious dismay rolling off Gladio in waves? Ignis could practically _feel_ it.

But abruptly Gladio made good on his remark, standing and heading for the door.

“Gladio-"

“No, it’s-” Again, the other broke off, losing himself mid-sentence. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and then gave Ignis a weak smile. “I’m good. It’s nothing. Sorry to drag you out here for nothing. But hey, I’ll see you at training tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes…”

And just like that, Ignis was alone in the room, a strange empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * * * *

_I don’t know who they are._

Gladio didn’t know whether he was angry or hurt by those words, uttered so innocently by Ignis. He didn’t know what to make of them, hadn’t known how to react. Was Ignis telling him the truth? Was he lying? Did he really not _know?_

But how could that be?

How could it be possible that Ignis didn’t know he was Gladio’s _soulmate?_

He felt like crying. Or punching something. Maybe both.

Gods, he hadn’t cried in _years._ That he felt like doing so now was a testament to the tumultuous state of his thoughts.

He retreated further into his apartment, turning the shower on and stepping into the stall before the water was even slightly warm. The cold shock of it made him gasp and shudder, and he stepped out of the spray until it had heated up a bit.

He hadn’t known how to react when Ignis had told him that he didn’t know who his soulmate was. He had frozen, panicked and confused, unable to respond despite his friend’s best attempts to get him to talk. But what was he supposed to have said? He couldn’t have told Ignis the truth, that it was _his_ name written across his ribs, not when Ignis didn’t seem to know it himself.  

A thought passed his mind then, and he felt cold despite the now scalding heat of the water.

Was it possible that Ignis had a different soulmate?

Could it be that they had been mismatched?

Gladio didn’t want to think about that possibility. It hurt too much.

To think, just a half an hour earlier, he had been so _happy._ And now he felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach, hard, over and over again, leaving him winded and flat on his back.

How could this have happened?

It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

He let himself slide down against the shower wall, sitting on the tiled floor while the water pounded against his head. His hair eventually fell forward, dripping down into his eyes, but he didn’t push it back.

Let it hang there. Whatever. He didn’t care.

The sound of his phone ringing drew him from his thoughts. He stared at the device for a moment through the steamy glass door, watching as the screen’s backlight flashed.

He shut the water off a moment later, answering the call just as it was about to go to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Gladdy?” Iris’ warm, concerned voice filled his ears, soothing some of the hurt he felt. She had always been able to do that, even when she had barely been able to talk. Somehow, she was capable of making everything seem a little bit better.  “Are you okay?”

He pushed his wet hair out of his face and grabbed a towel, slinging it around his waist. It was a purposeful movement, giving him enough time to steady his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why? Something wrong?”

“No… it’s just… well… Iggy called me.”

_Ignis._

“He… he did?”

“Yeah. He said you were acting funny. He thought you might be upset.”

Gladio felt angry then, inexplicably and instantly enraged. Of course he was fucking upset! Was this a fucking _game_ to the Crystal?! He’d just had the fucking rug pulled out from beneath his feet, just found out that the happiness he _thought_ he had been promised was complete and utter bullshit -

“Gladdy?”

His anger faded as quickly as it had come on. He sighed, holding the phone slightly away from him so that his sister wouldn’t hear the rawness of the sound.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Are you mad?”

He had been. And he had almost taken it out on _Iris._

Suddenly, he felt ashamed.

“I’m just tired,” he said. “Sorry to worry you.”

“That’s okay!” Iris replied brightly. “I just wanted to check! Well... I guess I’ll say good-bye now. If you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm. I’m good. Promise.”

“Don’t forget we’re going to buy my new shoes tomorrow!”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Okay. Night, Gladdy!”

“Night, Iris.”

Gladio set the phone down on the counter, staring at it for a moment. Ignis had known he was upset; he’d been moved enough to call Gladio’s sister, looking to see if perhaps she had known something, or maybe just to alert her to her brother’s mood. He knew then that Ignis hadn’t lied to him. Ignis had told him the truth - he didn’t know who his soulmate was. He didn’t know Gladio bore his name on his ribs. He didn’t know that in the space of the time that had elapsed since the Crystal had given him his mark, Ignis had become infinitely precious to him.

He didn’t know.

And that wasn’t his fault.

Gladio moved into his bedroom, flopping down on the bed. He was still damp from the shower and he had landed diagonally, his head not quite reaching the pillows, but he stayed precisely where he was. He wanted to go to sleep. Maybe he would wake up tomorrow, and this would all have been a bad dream.

He snorted. Yeah fucking right. He knew better than that.

With a grunt, he flipped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. No, this was real. Today, he had been given a soulmark, and in a bizarre twist of fate, his soulmate had received someone else’s. What was he supposed to do now?

_You know what you’ll do. You’ll keep going, do things as you always have._

He had responsibilities. He couldn’t just abandon them because this one thing hadn’t worked out for him.

He would take this night off and mope. He would go to sleep early, wake up a little later than normal tomorrow, have a big fucking breakfast, and then he would go about his life. He wouldn’t take it out on anyone or throw a temper tantrum.

Gladio would roll with the punches. He would take whatever shit the world threw at him and keep going anyways. This wouldn’t slow him down or make him lose focus.

He nodded to himself, as if to affirm this fact, and allowed sleep to claim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY GLADDY. 
> 
> I promise it's all uphill from here guys :)


	3. Storge

Ignis did not see Gladio outside of the sparring ring for nearly a week.

He made several attempts to speak to his friend, to ask him if everything was alright. He was worried; this sort of avoidant behavior wasn’t like Gladio. But each time he would approach the other, Gladio would brush him off, make some excuse about having to be somewhere else. Was it because of something he’d done, something he’d said? Perhaps he had said something hurtful without realizing it. He had also called Gladio’s sister, Iris, to see if she had known what was bothering her brother. Perhaps he had crossed some sort of line in the process. An apology might be in order.

He made up his mind to do this one night, after he had finished helping the prince with his homework. It was early yet, not quite seven o’clock; he knew precisely where Gladio would be at this time of day. Steps quick and sure, he set off for the Citadel’s training facilities.

The locker rooms were empty of patrons, most members of the court having long since finished their daily exercise routines. A janitor was mopping the floors; he looked up when Ignis entered the room, giving him a brief smile before returning to his duties. Another man was busy replacing the dirty towels with the clean ones from a cart. Ignis bypassed them and headed for the showers, where he could faintly hear the tinkling of water on tile.

Sure enough, Gladio was still there. His tall, muscular form was easy to recognize even from the back.

Ignis cleared his throat, keeping his gaze locked onto a section of tile behind Gladio’s head so as to avoid impropriety.

Gladio looked back over his shoulder, blinking in surprise when he recognized Ignis. “Iggy? What’re you doing here?”

“I had hoped I might have a word.”

Gladio hesitated. “I dunno-”

“I’ll wait for you outside.”

Ignis did not give his friend a chance to respond, exiting the showers and sitting on a nearby bench. He folded his hands into his lap and crossed his ankles, waiting patiently for the other to finish. It was a rather short wait. Gladio reappeared perhaps three minutes later, fully dressed in a loose shirt and athletic shorts. He didn’t seem to have fully toweled off, Ignis noticed - the shirt clung to his frame like silk.

Was he happy to see Ignis, or simply eager to get this conversation over this? Ignis wanted it to be the former, but he wasn’t quite that much of an optimist.

Gladio dropped down onto the bench next to him, slinging his gym bag down between his feet. At this distance, Ignis could see that his friend looked terrible - there were dark circles beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, and faint traces of stubble on his normally clean shaven cheeks. There was a dejected cant to his expression as well, one that seemed so out of place it made Ignis ache. He hated to see Gladio like this; it wasn’t natural, it didn’t seem right.

“You wanna know why I’ve been avoiding you,” Gladio suddenly announced, not taking his gaze off the floor.

“Well, yes,” Ignis allowed. “But mostly I’ve been concerned.”

“Concerned?”

“Of course I’m concerned!” Ignis protested the surprise in Gladio’s voice. “You’re my friend, Gladio. When you… withdraw like this and won’t talk to me, I think I have a right to be worried. And on that note…” He cleared his throat. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

That drew Gladio’s attention. He finally looked at Ignis, amber eyes confused. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Clearly, I have, or you wouldn’t have been avoiding me,” Ignis disagreed.

“No, that’s not-” Gladio broke off, shaking his head. “Look, if anything, _I_ should be apologizing to _you._ I’m the one who’s been blowing you off.”

“And I assume the reason for that is that I crossed some sort of line in our last conversation,” Ignis persisted. “Or perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I called Iris?”

Gladio stared at him for a moment, and then, to Ignis’ surprise, let a weak laugh. “Gods, you’re something else,” he muttered. Ignis frowned, not quite understanding the meaning of that, and waited for Gladio to continue. “Look, Iggy… to tell you the truth, this week’s just been… well, shit. But it’s not because of anything you did.”

“You’re certain?”

His friend smiled. “Yeah. I mean it.”

There was something sad about Gladio’s expression, his easy grin not meeting his eyes. Ignis did not like it one bit. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t _Gladio._ He felt a sudden need to fix it, to wipe it from his face and replace it with one of his characteristic, almost wolfish smiles. To do that, he had to get to the bottom of things, figure out what was really bothering his friend.

“Does this have something to do with the appearance of your soulmark?”

Gladio tensed up, and Ignis knew he had struck metaphorical gold.

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about that-”

“So that _is_ what this is about.” Gladio didn’t contradict him, but neither did he offer up any sort of clarification. Ignis pushed doggedly ahead. “You said that you knew who they were. Do I know them?”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Then perhaps I can assist you in speaking to them.”

Gladio snorted derisively, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then, please, enlighten me-”

“No!”

Ignis clamped down on the retort he had been about to give, Gladio’s sharp refusal silencing him as effectively as a gag. His friend made a frustrated noise then, running a hand over his face.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said finally, his voice much softer. “But this is… it’s complicated, Iggy. I don’t think you can help me.”

“...Is there nothing I can do?”   

“Not really. I gotta work this one out on my own.”

Ignis pursed his lips in frustration. Rarely had he felt so utterly useless. Here his friend sat, in obvious pain about something quite important to him, and Ignis was unable to give him any sort of assistance. He hated feeling powerless, hated how small it made him feel. How much worse must it be for Gladio?

He decided then that he couldn’t give up, even if Gladio already had.

“Well, if you _do_ think of a way I can aid you, please let me know.”

Gladio stared at him for a moment, perplexed. “Why is this bugging you so much?” he asked.

Ignis frowned. Was that not obvious?

“You’re my friend, Gladio,” he said, repeating his earlier statement. “I do not enjoy seeing my friends in obvious distress, particularly if there is something I can do to ease their discomfort.”

“Ease my discomfort, huh?”  

“Yes.”

“Well… tell you what… I don’t know that you can help me. Like I said, this is something I have to do myself. But you could help me take my mind off things,” Gladio offered.  “Distract me, I guess.”

Ignis clung to this newfound option, this extended olive branch. “What did you have in mind?”

“You seen that new movie? About the international assassin?”

“I haven’t. What’s it called, again?”

“Dunno. But it looked good. Wanna go see it tonight?”

It seemed as good a time as any, and Ignis wasn’t certain when his next free night would be. He nodded, rising to his feet and extending a hand back to help his friend up. “Let’s go.”

The night got off to a slow start, their conversation somewhat stilted as they walked to the nearest movie theater. But little by little, Gladio became more like his old self, jostling elbows with Ignis when he wished to make a point, laughing at the movie’s incredibly stupid jokes, downing handful after handful of greasy, movie-theater popcorn. By the time the film was over, it was as if there had never been a break in their friendship, and they walked back to the Citadel deep in easy discussion of the movie’s plot holes.

The change in Gladio’s behavior towards him continued into the next day, when they met up for a sparring session. The previous week had been full of intense, heated bouts where the line between friend and foe had been blurred. Ignis hadn’t liked it; this was supposed to be combat _training,_ after all, not combat itself. But Gladio appeared to have relaxed somewhat, resuming his cajoling remarks about Ignis’ form, correcting his stances and grips in an offhand sort of way, and offering him tips that Ignis was forced to begrudgingly accept.

Ignis was greatly relieved at this. It had surprised him when Gladio had withdrawn from him so suddenly, and if he were honest, it had hurt. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that _he_ was the reason for Gladio’s behavior, that something he had done had caused this rift to form between them. Even now, a tinge of guilt remained, despite Gladio’s best efforts at persuading him otherwise. He had no particular reason to feel this way, and yet he did. It was unshakeable.

He had hurt Gladio. He _was_ to blame.

But Gladio never mentioned the incident again. If anything, he seemed all too happy to forget that their discussion in the conference room that night - and the one they had had the subsequent week - had ever happened. If Ignis attempted to bring it up in conversation, Gladio quickly changed the subject. Eventually, he gave up on the matter, deducing that it was one thing that they would simply never be able to discuss.

It was alright, Ignis reasoned. Friends rarely discussed every little thing with one another. He and Gladio could have one topic that they did not broach with each other.

And yet…

He found that he did not _want_ there to be something that he could not discuss with Gladio. He did not _want_ there to be that sort of barrier between them.

Ignis could not say why he felt this way. He certainly didn’t have any trouble erecting barriers between himself and other people - like his classmates or even his uncle. By the Six, there were even topics that he refused to discuss with _Noctis_ out of respect for the prince’s privacy. But Gladio was different.

Gladio was… special.

There was a bond between the two of them, a connection, one that Ignis didn’t share with anyone else. Perhaps it had grown out of their shared duty to the prince; they alone, out of the rest of their peers, knew what that duty meant. They alone had a real sense of its weight, its significance. It meant that their friendship was more intimate than the friendships Ignis had developed with his other peers. It was, all at once, more intense and more real than any other relationship he had.

But it was also strange. As his last year of high school passed, Ignis found himself growing oddly… aware of Gladio. He could detect the other’s moods even when Gladio was doing his best to clamp down on his emotions. It was like he could feel them, like they were real, physical things instead of intangible states. Sometimes he wondered if Gladio experienced the same thing with him. Could he tell how Ignis was feeling, even if he was trying to hide it?

Perhaps he should attempt to test that hypothesis.

But he wasn’t sure how to go about it without startling his friend. It was an odd sort of thing to try to explain to someone - that you could feel what they were thinking almost as well as you could tell what _you_ were thinking. He wasn’t reading Gladio’s mind, for that would have been a gross invasion of the other’s privacy, not to mention impossible, but he had to admit, that _was_ what it seemed.

So he kept these developments to himself, studying them curiously but not yet giving them voice.

* * * * *

It was a lazy afternoon, the day of Ignis’ eighteenth birthday.

He was curled up on his couch, a book in his hands and a strong cup of coffee at his side, wearing the most informal pair of pants he owned. His favorite music was playing through the new headphones Noctis had given him that morning, occasionally distracting him from the words on the pages of his novel, a gift from Gladio. He sighed contentedly, allowing himself to stretch out a little. It was warm in his apartment, sunlight streaming through the windows to play upon the wooden floors.

This was how birthdays were supposed to be spent.

In idle happiness, surrounded by the things one loved.

Gladio stumbled out of the kitchen, a slightly panicked look on his face. “Hey, Iggy…”

Ignis sighed, pulling the headphones from his ears. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Convincing.” Ignis marked his page in the book and set it down on the table.

“It’s not an issue at all,” Gladio began, waving Ignis back even as he approached the doorway, “but I may have broken your frying pan.”

Ignis blinked. “Broken my-”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gladio, you can’t have broken one of my pans,” Ignis said, pushing past his large friend into the kitchen. “They’re industrial strength stainless steel-” His mouth snapped shut when he saw the scene atop the counter. There was flour everywhere, the sink was filled to the brim with measuring cups and mixing bowls, and something vaguely resembling sesame chicken was sitting on a large plate to the side, a bowl of rice next to it.

And on the stove, his beloved frying pan was neatly broken in two, the handle lying dejectedly off to the side.

Ignis should have been furious.

Instead, he was laughing.

Gladio was staring at him, concerned. “Uh, Iggy?”

Ignis held up a hand, gasping for breath. Gods, how long had it been since he had laughed like this? Since he had had the time to find something so innocently, endearingly _hysterical?_ It was a fight to regain his composure, his sides aching with the force of his laughter.

“Look, I didn’t mean to. I’ll buy you a new one-”

“How did you do it?”

“What?”

“How did you break it?” Ignis took a step forward, inspecting the broken pan with a keen eye.

“Ah, well, I burnt a little of the sauce and it got stuck to the pan,” Gladio replied sheepishly. “I was trying to scrape it off with the spatula.”

“And how hard were you scraping?”

“Too hard, I guess.”

Ignis gave another chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and throwing it, burnt sauce and all, into the garbage. He should have been mad. He should have been _furious_ that his favorite pan had been destroyed. But he wasn’t.

He  _wasn't._

He could practically feel Gladio’s dismay, and without thinking, he placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “Gladio, don’t worry about it,” he said.

“Seriously, Iggy, I’ll buy you a new one. It can be your birthday present.”

“You already bought me a present,” Ignis pointed out, reminding the other of the set of novels he’d been gifted earlier that morning.

“Well then I’ll buy you a second present.”

“Your second present was offering to cook me dinner.”

“Dammit, Iggy, I’m trying to apologize here!”

Now he was frustrated, a hand coming up to yank at his hair, grown long in the back over the past year. Ignis didn’t like that; he was having a wonderful birthday, and he didn’t want Gladio to feel as if he had ruined it.

“Gladio,” Ignis said softly.

“Yeah?”

“It’s perfectly alright. It was an accident.”

“I still want to buy you a new one.”

Ignis sighed, but it was a fond sort of sigh. “If you must. Now, are you finished cooking?”

He looked over at the food that Gladio had cooked. The chicken looked to be covered in much more sauce than Ignis would have used, and the rice was slightly overcooked in areas, but all in all, it looked quite palatable. It was made all the more so by the fact that someone _else_ had cooked it, that someone else had offered to ensure that he hadn't had to cook for himself on his birthday.

“I hope it tastes okay,” Gladio muttered, seeing the direction of Ignis’ stare. “Found the recipe in a book Dad has.”

“I’m sure it will be wonderful.”

Gladio snorted. “I doubt that,” he replied. “Nothing as good as you could make.” He looked down then, at the hand Ignis had forgotten to remove from his arm. He stared at it for a moment, as if wondering why it was there, and then flicked his eyes up to Ignis’ face.

Ignis froze, suddenly aware of how close they were to one another. He had grown several inches over the past several years, topping out at around six feet, but he still felt small compared to Gladio. Nowhere was the difference in their heights more pronounced than at such proximity, Ignis’ eyes roughly level with his friend’s chin. He had to tilt his head back a little to look him in the eye, and when he did, he was surprised at what he found.

Hesitance, along with something that felt like longing.

Now why would Gladio feel that way?

Abruptly, Gladio moved back, reaching for a plate and filling it with food. Ignis absently took the plate when it was handed to him, watching as Gladio made a second dish for himself. He tried to guess what the other was feeling, but for once, he could not. It appeared that his friend had reigned his emotions back in, closed himself off. Or maybe he was forcing himself to exude ambivalence. Either way, his eyes were no longer quite so open.

Something changed between them that day. They could not have gone back to the way they were before.

But at the time, Ignis hadn’t been able to discern _how_ things had changed.

That would take a little while longer yet.  

* * * * *

_“Do you like that?”_

_Ignis groaned as a long finger traced the length of his cock, and he bit his lip to keep the sound in._

_“Hey - you don’t have to keep the noises in.” The voice was encouraging, gentle, accompanied by a warm hand gripping him and slowly twisting up. “I wanna hear you.”_

_Ignis gasped as the hand slowly began to stroke him, applying just enough pressure to make his toes curl in want. Another hand came up to hold his hips steady, and then a hot, wet mouth was enveloping the tip of his cock as the hand continued to grip the base._

_He let out a strangled cry at the sudden heat, and was rewarded with a rich, low chuckle followed by the swipe of a tongue along the underside of his length._

_“That good for you, huh?”_

_The second hand’s thumb was tracing circles around his hipbone. It was terribly distracting, a light, pleasurable tickling sensation. But then that tongue was tracing the head of his cock again, lingering in the slit, and Ignis forget everything else._

_“I’m close,” he warned, fighting not to buck his hips up into the other’s mouth. “I’m-”_

_Abruptly, the other removed their hand and swallowed Ignis whole, burying their face between Ignis’ legs, and he came, hard._

_He lay there, trembling, for a moment, unable to do anything else. At some point, he had snapped his eyes shut - now he opened them, staring at the dark ceiling above his bed in order to regain his bearings._

_He looked down just as Gladio rested his chin on Ignis’ lower stomach._

_“Good?” he asked, grinning._

_“Very,” Ignis replied._

_The larger man chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to Ignis’ hipbone. “You’re welcome.”_

_Ignis rolled his eyes. “You’re very full of yourself, did you know that?”_

_Gladio’s eyes smoldered. “I’d rather be full of you.”_

Ignis awoke with a start, wrenched quite rudely from his dream.

He was sweating, his t-shirt clinging to the skin of his chest and his hair sticking to his forehead.

He had also come in his pants, he realized. _It was just a dream,_ he told himself firmly, sitting up and heading to his bathroom. _Nothing more._

But it was a dream he had been having more and more often over the past few years. The first instance of it had been shortly after he had turned eighteen, just after that fateful encounter in the kitchen.

He had awoken from the dream shaking and confused.

He had never had a dream like it. Naturally, his dreams often featured sex - he was a perfectly healthy young man, thank you very much, and such things were common. But his partner had always been some amorphous, hazy individual. They had never had a face.

They had certainly never born the face of his friend.

He had written the dream off as a one-time occurrence, a by product of that strange, heated moment that had passed between them. Gladio was handsome enough, Ignis supposed, and they spent a lot of time together. One such dream featuring a friendly face didn’t necessarily mean anything.

But then the second dream had come.

And the third.

And now he had lost count of how many times Gladio had made love to him in his dreams.

Ignis removed his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water run over his body for a minute or two before he grabbed his shampoo.

He called it making love instead of just sex because there were no longer any doubts as to the truth of his feelings for his friend. He was not simply lusting after Gladio, desiring his admittedly perfect physique. It was more complicated than that. Sometimes, the dreams were intense and erotic, leaving him breathless and dizzy upon waking. But other were downright domestic - the two of them discussing a novel while eating breakfast in a shared apartment, walking along the paths of one of Insomnia’s many public gardens, going out for drinks at a bar.

Such dreams carried over to the waking world. He found that had begun to crave the other’s company, his presence, his thoughts. He wanted to have conversations with the man, spend hours together doing _nothing,_ help each other achieve their goals. He wanted to fall asleep next to Gladio, and wake up beside him in the morning.

He loved him.

Sometimes, he thought that the feeling was reciprocated. Gladio would look at him a certain way, or let his hand linger a moment too long when he touched Ignis. He would buy Ignis books to read and put them into his bag when he wasn’t looking, or take him out for coffee after their training sessions. He would rush to Ignis’ defense when Ignis relayed his frustrations over hours spent in fruitless council meetings.

It was almost as if...

But it could never be. Gladio had a soulmate, though he certainly did not seem as enamored with the thought of locating them as he once had been. He had a mark, and it was not Ignis.

As if it had called out to him, responding to his thoughts, Ignis looked down at the black scrawl on his ribs.

He still had no idea who his own soulmate was. He had stopped trying to find them altogether once the dreams of Gladio had become common. Whatever it was that the Crystal wanted him to find in his soulbound, he doubted that it would ever be as strong as his feelings for Gladio. That love had been born of friendship and trust and hours spent together, learning each other’s secrets and dreams. It was _real,_ organic.

How could anything born of the Crystal’s magic compare?  

* * * * *

Ignis arrived at prince’s apartment at precisely seven o’clock.

He rapped on the door twice, but kept his hand poised just over the door. It normally took Noctis several attempts before he woke up enough to realize someone needed him. Sure enough, there was no response to his first knock, and he was forced to announce his presence again.

“Coming!”

Ignis blinked at the excited voice that had spoken to him from the intercom unit on the wall. The prince was awake? At this hour? He was curious, and more than a little apprehensive of what this might mean.  

A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Noctis in all of his eighteen year-old glory. He was _smiling_ , of all things, an absolutely endearing, unguarded smile that Ignis had never seen before.

“You’re very chipper this morning,” he commented, stepping into the apartment and moving to make breakfast.

“Am I?” Noctis shrugged, following Ignis into the kitchen.

“You’re already showered and dressed,” Ignis pointed out. He retrieved some eggs from the refrigerator and a pan from the cabinet under the sink, preparing to make the prince an omelette. “I normally cannot wake you until at least seven-thirty.” He paused, sniffing the air. “Is that _coffee?”_ His gaze sharpened. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Specs, I’m _fine,_ ” Noctis promised. “Here.” He reached onto a shelf for a mug and poured Ignis a cup from the carafe. “Have some Ebony.”

“I didn’t even know you _had_ Ebony.”

“Surprise.”

Ignis hesitantly took the coffee, allowing himself a sip before he resumed beating the eggs. The coffee was good, he realized, and that was odd too. When had Noct learned to make coffee? He didn't particularly care for it, only drinking it because Ignis drank it. He took another sip and tipped the eggs into the frying pan, accepting the spatula Noctis handed him without question.

“So you know I’m eighteen now.”

“...I was aware,” Ignis drawled.

“And being eighteen has certain privileges.”

“Where are you going with this, Noct?”

Ignis grabbed a plate for the omelette, handing it to Noctis before setting about making another for himself.

“People often get their soulmarks when they turn eighteen.”

_Ah. That explains it._

“Then I take it you have received your mark?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“And who is the lucky person?”

“It’s Prompto.”

Ignis dropped the spatula. It fell to the floor, bouncing twice on the tile before it came to a stop.

_Prompto?_

Could it be? 

But it could. Ignis regained his composure a moment later, bending down to retrieve the dirty spatula. He set it in the sink before grabbing a clean one, fishing his eggs out of the pan and plating them before he could embarrass himself further.

“Specs?”

“You’re sure of this, Noct?”

The prince held out his arm so that Ignis could see it. There, scrawled upon his forearm, alongside the outer bone of his wrist, was the looping signature of one Prompto Argentum. It was unmistakable.

“Can you believe it?” Noctis asked. There was an ebullient joy in his voice that was throwing Ignis off. It almost didn't sound like the prince at all. 

Now that the initial shock of it had worn off, Ignis realized that he _did_ believe it. The news wasn’t surprising at all. The prince and his blonde friend had been inseparable for years now; they did everything together - homework, video games, meals… Prompto had even come and trained with Gladio a few times. So it wasn’t startling at all to see that the Crystal had determined Prompto was the prince’s perfect match, the one who made his soul sing.

But what did it mean for the impending marriage to the Oracle?

“Noctis, I don’t think you should mention this to Prompto.”

The prince paused, frowning. “What? Why?”

“I don’t think you should speak of it until you’ve talked with your father.”

“Why would I wait?”

“If you will recall, you have been recently been betrothed to Lunafreya-”

“ _Shit._ Luna.” Noctis’ face fell as he considered the full implications of Ignis’ words, the excitement seeping from his voice.

Ignis hated that he had to be the bearer of such ill news. He hated the crestfallen expression on the prince’s face. He hated that he had to be the voice of reason. It wasn’t right. He should have been celebrating with Noctis, who had clearly been overjoyed to know that his soulmate was his closest friend. They should have been  _rejoicing._

It wasn’t fair.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Ignis blinked at the sudden vehemence in Noctis’ voice.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re trying to marry me to Luna,” the prince continued. “She’ll understand everything if I explain it to her. She wouldn’t want to go through with the marriage if she knew the truth.”

“Noctis-”

“And I’m telling Prompto.”

Despite his wish that Noctis would exercise more caution, Ignis was proud of his charge for not backing down. He was proud that Noctis wasn’t going to meekly accept his fate.

“That is your prerogative. But Noct… you understand that I will have to inform your father of this?”

The prince stared at him for a moment, and then slowly nodded. “Yeah. I know you do.”

“They will probably try to stop you from seeing Prompto.”

Noctis stubbornly jutted his chin out. “Let them try.”

“There may be consequences.”

“Bring it on.” Noctis moved his now empty plate to the sink and grabbed his jacket off the back of a nearby chair.

Ignis was suddenly struck with an idea, and he withdrew one of his gloves from his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing it to the prince. “At least promise me that you'll wear this.”

“What? Why?” Noctis asked, wrinkling his nose up at the suggestion.

“You should, at the very least, hide your soulmark,” Ignis explained. “For Prompto’s safety as much as your own.”

“Uh, okay.” Noctis tossed the glove back towards him. “But I have my own gloves, Specs. Keep yours.”

Of course he did. Ignis refused to let himself feel chastised though, for the prince retreated into his bedroom and returned a moment later with a black fingerless glove on his left arm. It completely covered his wrist, no trace of the mark left exposed.

“Better?”

Ignis nodded. “Much.”

They stood there in awkward silence, neither seeming to quite know how to continue the conversation. Ignis was trying to make a list of all the things he felt would happen now that the prince had been given his soulmark. He would have to tell the King, and then he was sure that there would be meetings to discuss the news, and then they would have to decide what to  _do_ with the news. He would be questioned about it, of course, grilled for every last detail -

"Ignis?"

"Yes, Noct?"

"What's going to happen?"

"I don't know," he said truthfully. An bit of vulnerability had edged into the prince's voice, and he wished there was more that he could do to assuage it. "It could be several days before anything is decided."

"I want to be happy."

"I know."

"Doesn't that count for anything?"

Ignis didn't have the heart to reply.

* * * * *

“I haven't the faintest idea what to do, Gladio.”

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, trying to forestall a headache. He feared it was a pointless endeavor - the stress of the morning combined with the loudness of the restaurant they were frequenting had combined forces, leaving him with a dull ache behind his eyes. And if the morning’s events were any indication, it was bound to get worse before the day was out.

The prince had finally received his soulmark.

And the name he bore was not Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.

Ignis had never once thought that it would be. The Crystal had no reason to honor marriages arranged for political advantage, and the Oracle wasn't even Lucian. But for whatever reason, several members of the King’s council had stubbornly persisted in their belief that their desire for the marriage to occur would determine the prince’s future soulmate.

It hadn't.

Instead Noctis had awoken with the looping signature of Prompto Argentum written across his forearm.

The prince was overjoyed. Prompto was his closest friend, and the two had much in common. Ignis had suspected that his charge’s feelings for the other had begun to extend beyond friendship a good while ago, but he hadn't mentioned his suspicions to anyone. It wasn't his place, and they certainly weren't harming anything. In any case, Noctis had not acted upon these feelings. He and Prompto remained friends, and nothing more.

But that had been before the two had been marked.

As soon as he had dropped the prince off at school, Ignis had called Prompto. After a fair bit of persuasion, he had gotten the blonde to admit that he did, indeed, bear a version of Noctis’ signature upon his forearm. He had received his mark a little more than a year ago, but he hadn't told the prince. He had been afraid to do so, he admitted, for he knew that Noctis was promised to another.

Not that that would stop Noctis from acting. At the very least, Ignis had managed to convince him to cover the mark. A small victory, but he felt better knowing the mark was covered.

“How's the council taking it?”

Ignis glanced up at his friend in surprise. He had been so deep in his thoughts, he had half-forgotten that he wasn't alone.

“Poorly,” he replied. “They still want him to go through with the marriage.”

Gladio snorted. “Course they do,” he muttered. He paused to take a bite of his cheeseburger. “What's the King saying?”

“Nothing.”

“Come again?”

Ignis sighed. “Nothing. The King did not speak during the meeting.”

Regis had remained silent even when the arguments of his council had grown heated. He had stared forward the entire time, glaring at something only he had been able to see. Whenever he had been asked for his opinion, he had waved the question off, refusing to answer. Whether this was because he was too angry to speak or too dismayed for his son’s circumstances, Ignis could not say. Nor had he had time to ask - the King had swept out of the room as soon as the meetings were over, moving quickly despite his health.

“You think Regis’ll make Noct go through with it?”

“I don’t know.”

Ignis knew what he _wished_ Regis would do. But he was not the King; he did not have all the information, he did not hold all the cards. This was not his decision to make.

“Has Noct talked to him at all?”

“Not that I know of,” Ignis replied, his hand falling back into his lap with a dull thud. He stared down at his own food, largely untouched since the waiter had brought it to him. The thought of eating right now made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. “The only person that he seemed eager to tell, other than me, was, naturally, Prompto.”

“Think he’ll at least wait until after the school day’s over?”

Ignis snorted. “Knowing Noctis, I bet it was the first thing that he said to Prompto this morning,” he said flatly. “He was so happy, Gladio. Overjoyed.”

Gladio grunted in commiseration. “And he probably won’t get more than a couple days before the hammer falls,” he muttered. He paused to take a drink, and then looked up at Ignis contemplatively. “You ever think maybe these soulmarks are more trouble than they’re worth?”

Ignis blinked. “This, coming from you?” he asked lightly. The topic of soulmarks was one neither of them had mentioned in a long time, and Ignis spoke cautiously, wary of the old wounds it might dredge up.

Gladio shrugged. “Hasn’t exactly worked out for either of us, has it? And now Noct and Prompto get to deal with it too.”

“Perhaps they will handle it better than we have.”

“Can’t do much worse, honestly.”

They shared a weak laugh at this, and Ignis felt his the ache in his head lessen slightly. Gladio had that effect on him lately, he had noticed - the other’s presence was soothing to him, like a balm for a wound. If he was tired, Gladio invigorated him; if he was angry, Gladio calmed him down. Like his ability to sense Gladio’s emotions, he had no explanation for it. He doubted his anecdotes were anything more than a curiosity, but he wasn’t going to question it when it was helping to relieve his headache.

“Hey. You gonna eat anything?”

Ignis looked down at his wilting salad. “I haven’t the appetite for it now,” he admitted, pushing the dish away. “My apologies. I will pay for it, of course.”

Gladio shook his head. “It’s my turn,” he said, reaching into a pocket to pull out his wallet. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re certain…”

“Iggy, I got it.” Gladio raised a hand to flag down their waiter. “You gotta head back to the Citadel soon, yeah?” He handed off a credit card to the man, indicating that they would also need a to-go box. “More meetings?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I fear this is just the beginning.”

“You should take a break if you can. Those things’ll drive you insane.”

“I really can’t miss them. If something is decided, then I will have to be able to relay that information to Noctis.”

“That’s what meeting notes are for.”

“And who do you think writes the meeting notes?”

“Mmm. Good point. Well text me if they decide anything big. Maybe I can help.”

Ignis was grateful for the other's offer of assistance, though he feared there was little either of them could do in this situation.

The waiter returned then, handing Ignis the box and Gladio the check.

“Have a wonderful day, sirs!”  

“Thanks,” Gladio replied, signing one of the receipts and then putting the other back into his wallet along with his card.

“I really wish you would let me pay,” Ignis grumbled, piling lettuce into the box. “It hardly seems fair to let you foot the bill when I wasn’t able to eat anything.”

“Look, if you really want to, you can get the tip,” Gladio said, his tone bemused. “But I already paid, remember?” He stood, jerking his head in the direction of the restrooms. “I’m gonna hit the can before we go. Back in a sec.”

Ignis nodded, setting his to-go box to the side and reaching for the receipt. He wasn’t sure if Gladio had been serious about his taking care of the tip, but he fully intended to do so. He glanced over the slip of paper - quite expensive for a salad, _really_ \- and the itemized price lists, searching for the total cost of the meal. It was near the bottom, right above Gladio’s hastily draw signature -

Ignis froze.

He suddenly felt faint, and he actually swayed in his seat.

 _No. No, no, no, no, no_ -

It was identical to the mark he bore on his ribs. He was sure of it. There was no doubting it - the “s” had the same, distinctive loop at the end, and it was just as perfectly illegible.

He was shaking as he set the receipt and a wad of small bills down on the table. He couldn’t believe it. This was impossible, or at the least, very highly unlikely, and _how could he have never noticed this before?_

He had a soulmate.

And his name was Gladiolus Amicitia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I half want to do a story with Noct and Prompto, telling things from their point of view. As if I don't already have enough projects to work on, hahaha
> 
> Thank you all for your response to the first two parts! I always love hearing your thoughts :)
> 
> One more to go :)


	4. Eros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The canon setting is going out the window a little bit with this part. Oops :) 
> 
> Additional warnings for this chapter: Schmoop, Schmoop, and more Schmoop. Blame it on the dulcet tones of Lana del Rey and my own incessant need to have these guys be happy.

Ignis was less than useless for the entire rest of the day.

He sat through meeting after meeting, doing his best to pay attention to the various council members as they spoke and deliberated, but he feared that he was doing a very poor job of paying attention. His thoughts were utterly elsewhere, ranging from an intense loathing for himself to a heady joy and then back to a fierce ire at his own stupidity. The pages of his notebook that he had allotted for today were empty, a few random thoughts jotted down in the margins. He would have to go to one of the official court scribes for a transcription of the discussions if he wanted to offer Noctis anything worthwhile to read.

He _hated_ going to the scribes. They wrote in a terrible shorthand that was cramped and nearly impossible to read. His own notes were infinitely superior.

By the time he excused himself to go and retrieve Noctis from school, there had been no decision in regards to Noctis’ soulmark. Ignis hadn’t been expecting one, to be honest. There were too many strong opinions on both sides of the argument. It would be difficult for the councillors to come to a unified point of view, and even then, the final judgment lay with the King, who had been curiously absent from the afternoon meetings. It was odd, that. Ignis wasn’t aware of anything more pressing that would have required his attention, but then again, he was not privy to all of the King’s comings and goings. It must have been something important, to have drawn him away from such heavy meetings.

He pulled into the school’s parking lot, taking a space near the side entrance that the prince preferred using so as not to attract attention. About fifteen minutes early, he settled in to wait.

Immediately, his thoughts were drawn to Gladio.

He still could not believe it. How had he not seen this before? In retrospect, it was so glaringly _obvious_.

It wasn’t that he had gotten better at reading his friend’s body language over the past several years, or better at sensing his emotions. He was actually _feeling_ them, because two of them had been _bonding._ And that was likely why he found Gladio’s presence so soothing, as well. It was the link that had been forged between them.  It hadn’t made a difference to the Crystal that they hadn’t known they were each other’s soulmates; they had been in close proximity to one another, and that was what mattered. How had he missed that?

He had never seen Gladio’s handwriting. When would he have? It wasn’t Gladio’s homework that he was checking on a regular basis. Nor had he even thought to check to see if his friend’s signature matched the mark on his ribs. He had just assumed -

And that was the root of the problem. He had _assumed._

But one question was still eating at him. Why hadn’t Gladio mentioned anything to him? His own handwriting was quite neat - he had practiced it for hours as a child until it was perfect. Why had Gladio not said anything?

 _He did,_ he realized suddenly. _He came to you, and wanted to know if you had received your soulmark. It was a passive way of asking if you knew the truth._

Ignis ran a hand over his face, cursing himself for his stupidity yet again.

What must Gladio think of him?

With shaking hands, he drew his phone out from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts for Gladio’s phone number. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed the call button, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Gladio.” Even his voice was trembling.

“Iggy? You alright? You sound kind of weird.”

“No, I’m - well, I’m fine.”

“Council meetings got you down, huh?”

Ignis hesitated for a moment, confused, and then he realized to what the other was referring. Gladio must have thought that he was worn out from the discussions, that that was the reason for the tremulous note in his voice.

He couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

“Funny,” Ignis huffed, “I meant that I need to talk to you in person.”

“Oh. Well, I’m kind of in the middle of a training session right now. Can it wait?”

Ignis could have smacked himself. Of course Gladio was busy - it was the middle of the afternoon. He should have sent a text message instead of calling. “Of course,” he said quickly, trying to rectify his mistake. “I’m waiting for Noctis anyways.”

“I’ll swing by your apartment later. Six okay?”

“Six o’clock is fine.”

“...you sure you’re alright, Iggy? You sound… upset.”

“I am fine, Gladio.” Never had he uttered such a lie. “I’ll say more later.”

“Okay. Later.”

“Good-bye.”

Ignis ended the call, laying his head back against the headrest. His eyes slipped closed as he took a deep breath, a rough attempt to center himself.

It didn’t work.

Annoyed, Ignis wrenched his eyes open to look at the time. It was three twenty-one. Two and a half hours. He had two and a half hours still to go. He wasn’t sure that he could take this - the waiting, the anticipation. It was agonizing. His chest felt full to bursting, happiness, anxiety, fear, and dismay all competing for his attention. Was this how Gladio had felt, that night when he had revealed that he’d discovered his soulmark?

The thought made his soul ache.

He was distracted when his phone rang. He lurched to grab it, thinking that perhaps it was Gladio calling him back, but no, it was a different number. It was a phone number that he had been told to use only in the most desperate of emergencies.

The King’s name and phone number were alternating flashes across the screen.

Immediately, he brought the phone to his ear. “Your Majesty? Is everything alright?”

“Ignis.” The King sounded relieved, and very, very tired. “Good. I’m glad I caught you. Have you picked Noctis up from school yet?”

“I am at the school, Your Majesty, but it doesn’t look like classes have let out for the day just yet.”

“Good. I need you to bring him straight to me, once he has finished.”

“To you, sire?”

“Come to my personal quarters. I have instructed Clarus to let you in.”

“Of course,” Ignis agreed.

“Now, am I correct in assuming that Noctis has probably informed his friend about the appearance of his soulmark?”

“I - yes, Your Majesty,” Ignis admitted. “I tried to persuade him otherwise, but I was ultimately unable to convince him.”

“That’s quite understandable, Ignis,” Regis replied, chuckling. “He can be very stubborn. But if you were unable to persuade him to wait a few days, then I think it likely he has already told Prompto of the situation.”

“...Most likely, sire.”

“I also think it likely he will try to bring Prompto along this afternoon.”

The King was right, Ignis realized. Noctis and Prompto often went back to the prince’s apartments after school, especially later on in the week, but today that likelihood was even more apparent.

“Do you want me to put a stop to it?” Ignis asked, uncertain. He didn’t want to do any such thing - he liked Prompto, and he knew the boy meant no harm. He seemed even more aware of the dangers of a soulbond with the prince than Noctis, to be honest. It was a tricky situation the two teenagers were in, but it was hardly one that they had brought upon themselves.

“No, no,” the King said quickly. “Rather, I think it better that Prompto come along. I believe they should spend the weekend here, where they will be safe. But I will need to speak with Noctis alone for a moment. So I would ask that you entertain the boy while I do so. You needn’t go far - I believe there is a fantastic little coffee shop on the floor beneath me.”

“Of course, sire.”

“And then if you would make sure that the two of them get to Noctis’ apartment safely, I would be most obliged.”

“I will see to it that they’re safe.”

“Thank you, Ignis.”

The King ended the phone call, and Ignis set his phone down, thinking. Now, this was an unexpected turn of events. Regis had been absent from the council’s meetings all afternoon. Come to think of it, so had Clarus. Had he been doing something on his own, in secret? Was he planning on handling things on his own, the council be damned? Ignis rather hoped that he was.

He looked up at a tapping on the window to see Noctis standing there, Prompto at his side. Ignis immediately unlocked the doors, and the two scrambled into the backseat.

“Hey, Specs,” Noctis greeted.

“Hi, Ignis!” Prompto added.

“Hello,” Ignis replied, nodding to the two in the rearview mirror.

“Could we swing by that ice cream place before going back to my place?” the prince asked. “It’s so hot out.” He fanned himself with a hand, as if to emphasize that it was, indeed, quite warm.

Ignis took the hint and cranked the car’s air conditioning up a few notches before he began to back out of his parking space. “Normally, I would oblige, but I’m afraid we can’t today,” he said. He tried to instill his voice with calm, though he felt nothing of the sort, in an attempt to fend off the startled reaction his next words might provoke. “Your father has asked me to bring you to him.”

“Dad wants to see me?” Noctis asked. “Why?”

“He did not say.”

“Is this…” Noctis paused, thinking. “Is this about my soulmark?”

“I cannot say for certain, Noct, but I think it likely.”

“Aw, man, maybe I should go,” Prompto said uncertainly. “We can have a King’s Knight tournament some other day.”

“No way-”

“The King wishes you to accompany us as well, Prompto,” Ignis interjected, just before the prince could complete the retort.

“Whoa, he does?!” Prompto asked. “What for?”

“Is this about our safety?”

Ignis met Noctis’ eyes in the rearview mirror; there was an edge to that blue gaze that hadn’t been there before, something fierce he couldn’t quite label.  

“I suspect your father will be able to tell you more,” Ignis said slowly. “He did not mention as such to me.”

“But do you think that’s what he’s intending? To keep us safe?”

“There is that distinct possibility,” Ignis allowed. The prince’s mouth tightened a bit, in anger, perhaps, or fear. Or possibly it was a combination of both.

The rest of the drive was silent. By this point, Ignis was entirely too overwhelmed to speak. His mind kept switching back and forth, one moment worrying about Gladio and the unfinished business they lay between them, and the next fretting over what the King wanted with his son. He felt guilty, putting his personal problems on a level with his duties to Noctis, and yet it was entirely impossible to stop thinking about what a mess he had made of things. At this point, he could only hope that Gladio would forgive him, that Gladio wouldn’t be too upset with him for being an absolute imbecile.  

In the back seat, things were scarcely less tense. Prompto was fidgeting, hands flitting from his hair to his pockets to the cuffs of his sleeves and then back up to his hair, starting the process all over again. Every so often, he would try to make a weak attempt at starting a conversation, but even he seemed to reluctant to keep it going. After a while, he just gave up. Noctis, on the other hand, was staring resolutely out the window, brows snapped down over his eyes in deep thought.

It was a relief to finally arrive at the Citadel, to park the car and usher the two younger boys inside. Ignis had hoped that today would be the one time they weren’t interrupted or distracted, and to his surprise, his wish was granted. They made it to the elevators without fuss, and Ignis breathed deep for the first time since he’d received the call from the King.

When they reached the floor that served as the King’s private quarters, the elevator stopped. A moment later, the doors opened and revealed the towering form of Clarus Amicitia. He appeared to be waiting for them, hands clasped neatly in front of his ready stance. He nodded at them. “Your Highness,” he said, giving Noctis a little bow. “The King is expecting you. If you would follow me?”

The King’s sworn shield led them down a hallway to a small living area, neatly decorated in black leather and glass. He invited them all to sit while he retreated through another door at the back of the room, no doubt to inform the King that they were here.

Ignis sank down into a chair, motioning for Prompto to do the same. Despite his obvious nerves, the blonde was looking around the room curiously. He twisted his body towards Noctis, who had refused to sit. “Dude, is this entire _floor_ your dad’s?” he asked. “It’s huge!”

“Well, I used to live here too,” Noctis replied absently. His eyes were fixed upon the door Clarus had disappeared through, burning holes into the dark wood. “When I was little.”

“Really?” Prompto looked around again. “Man, this is so _nice_! I mean, I always thought it would be, your dad’s the _King,_ but I didn’t think it would be this sweet, and - ah, I’m rambling. Again.” He shot Noctis a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

The prince turned, giving the blonde a smile so achingly sweet that Ignis had to look away. It felt wrong of him to observe such a look, like he were intruding upon a private moment.

“I don’t mind. Ramble away.”

But Prompto never got the opportunity, for Clarus had returned. The King was following him, a carefully neutral expression on his aging face. Ignis rose and swept down into a bow; out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Prompto rush to do the same, though the movements were not quite as elegant or precise.

“Noctis,” the King said, nodding to his son. His eyes flicked over to Ignis and Prompto. “Ignis, thank you for bringing him. And Prompto, thank you for accompanying them. As we agreed then, Ignis; we shan’t be more than half an hour, I suspect.”

“What?” Noctis took a step back, looking from his father to Ignis with a suspicious look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘as you agreed’?”

“I am just going to be keeping Prompto company while you speak to your father,” Ignis said quickly, trying to ease the edge creeping into the prince’s voice. “I assure you, nothing untoward will happen.”

Noctis looked to his father for confirmation.

“This will only take a moment, son,” Regis agreed.

Though he still appeared reticent to leave his newly marked soulmate’s side, Noctis nodded and stepped away, following his father back into the back room. He shot Prompto one last, wan smile before the door slipped closed, leaving Ignis and Prompto alone with Clarus. The bodyguard quickly took his place in front of the door, again clasping his hands loosely in front of him.

“Come, Prompto,” Ignis said, waving for the blonde to follow him. He nodded once more to Clarus in farewell. “Clarus.” The shield returned the gesture ever so slightly.

Neither of them spoke until they had made it to the relative privacy of the elevator.

“Dude, that was the _King!”_

“I am aware, Prompto," Ignis replied, bemused.

“The King! I mean, I’ve seen him on television before, and in pictures in stuff, but man! There he was, live and in living color!” He paused, putting a finger to his lip. “What does he want to talk to Noct about?”

“I think you can figure that out on your own,” Ignis said lightly, his eyes flickering down to the wristband that Prompto wore on his left arm.

“Ah. Yeah. Guess I can,” the blonde replied. “Is he… mad, do you think?”

The elevator doors opened, and Ignis walked out, Prompto following him. “Mad?” he repeated, following the markers that indicated they were heading for the coffee shop the King had mentioned earlier. “I see no reason for his Majesty to be angry, Prompto.”

Prompto made a frustrated little noise; it was surprisingly similar to the one Noctis made when he didn’t want to eat his vegetables, Ignis realized. The thought amused him, and he allowed himself a little smile for perhaps the first time that day.  

“But I’m his son’s…” Prompto trailed off, as if he couldn’t quite say it aloud just yet. He grabbed his wrist as he did so, Ignis noticed, perhaps unconsciously.

“And there is nothing you could have done about that,” Ignis said firmly. “You had no say in the matter. So how could he be mad at you?”

“Because I’ve screwed everything up! It was supposed to be Lady Lunafreya, not me!”

Ignis stopped, grabbing Prompto by the arm. The blonde looked up at him in surprise. “Listen to me, Prompto,” Ignis said, voice stern. “You have not screwed _anything_ up. You have done nothing wrong. And in regards to Lady Lunafreya, the Crystal does not abide by man’s marital arrangements. This is hardly the first time that two soulmates have been promised to other people. Let the King sort this out - I believe he has a plan.”

“But it doesn’t matter what we want, does it?” Prompto persisted. “What Noct and I want? He has to marry her!”

“Noctis does not _have_ to do anything,” Ignis replied. “Arranged marriages can be broken as quickly as they are made, and this one was made in relative haste and under slight duress. Do not count yourself out just yet.”

“Is that… is that true?”

“Of course,” Ignis said, releasing his hold on Prompto’s arm. “Do you know how many times I have been betrothed since I was twelve?” The blonde shook his head. “Seven times.”

“What?! Really?!”

“And each time, my uncle and I were able to finagle our way out of it,” Ignis continued. “These things are hardly set in stone until they are actually happening. Do not doubt the King just yet, Prompto. Though the council may still want Noctis to marry Lady Lunafreya, I am not certain Regis will allow it, knowing that you are his soulbound.”

They resumed their walk to the cafe, albeit slower this time. “You mean that?” Prompto asked quietly.

There was hope in his voice, so pure and unadulterated; Ignis was touched, truly, by the sound of it, and he found himself hoping that his guesses were right and that the King really did have a plan that would allow for his son’s happiness.

How could he deny his son this, the adoration this boy clearly felt for Noctis? It would be a cruel, cruel thing indeed were he to continue with the marriage.

“I do, Prompto. I truly do.”

Ignis opened the door to the shop, allowing Prompto to enter first. It was a small little cafe, only slightly busy at this time of day. Small, round tables were arranged around the room, which was decorated to look like a little outdoor bistro, complete with brick walls and travertine floors. Artfully arranged tendrils of ivy were entwined in the ceiling beams, and the area was lit with flickering lights that were made to imitate candles.

 _Romantic_ , Ignis thought to himself. How had he never been to this coffee shop before? It was exactly the sort he would visit.

They approached the counter, and the young woman attending the register stood up straight, staring at Ignis oddly.

“Are you Ignis Scientia?” she asked suddenly.

Ignis blinked. “I am,” he said uncertainly.

“I’ve been told to let you and your friend order whatever you want, on the house,” the young woman said, smiling. “It’s already been paid for.”

 _The King,_ Ignis guessed, delighted despite himself. He surveyed the menu, noticing that they served small sandwiches and pastries as well as coffee, and his stomach rumbled in response. It was almost embarrassingly loud, and he realized, with a bit of chagrin, that he had never eaten his leftover salad. He had been too busy berating himself, too distracted. 

Well then. He wasn’t going to waste this fortuitous opportunity.

He turned to Prompto, who was eyeing the various pastries on the counter in delight. “Can I really have whatever I want?” he asked, awed.

“Absolutely!” the young woman chirped. “See something you like?”

Prompto turned to Ignis, who merely smiled at the blonde and waved him forward.

“After you.”

They retreated to a small table with a tray laden with food and drinks, helping themselves to the treats. It was very good, Ignis found, the coffee strong and robust, and the herb, red pepper, and cheese sandwich he had selected was simply superb. Prompto had gotten some kind of fancy, fizzy fruit drink as well as a small selection of pastries that he encouraged Ignis to try. Ignis normally didn’t normally allow himself to indulge his sweet tooth, but he couldn’t resist Prompto’s open invitation, and he allowed himself to taste each one in turn. His favorite was the macaron - not too sweet or cloying, but pleasant, with an entirely unexpected bit of crunch.

They spoke as they eat, and Ignis was sure to keep the conversation light so as not to ruin the tentatively pleasant mood they had set. Prompto told him about his running routine, and how he was working up to some longer distances to try a few races, and then spoke about his exams, and what he was planning to do after graduation. Ignis, in turn, spoke of the more mundane goings-on in the Citadel, relaying trite palace gossip that wasn’t all that interesting to him but seemed to intrigue Prompto nonetheless.

Some time later, the door to the cafe opened with a slight tinkling of bells, and they both turned to see Noctis standing in the doorway.

“Noct!” Prompto said, standing up.

The prince’s gaze locked onto his friend. As if in a daze, he walked over to their table, stopping perhaps a foot away from the blonde. “Prompt,” he said quietly.

Ignis tensed, thinking that perhaps something was wrong, something was amiss, perhaps Regis _was_ going to make him go through with the marriage after all, and his heart fell, sinking to his feet as he watched -

And then Noctis smiled - really, _genuinely_ smiled - and practically fell into the other’s arms.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, face buried in the collar of Prompto’s school uniform. His relief was palpable, a slight tremor to his voice, and Ignis was moved at this unexpected display of emotion. “ _We’re_ okay. He’s not gonna make me do it.”

“Really?!” Prompto jerked back, the grin on his face positively infectious.

“He called her - Luna,” Noctis replied. His fingers were clenched tight in Prompto’s clothes, as if he couldn’t bear to let him go. “He called her and told her what had happened.”

“And she was okay with it?”

“She never wanted it in the first place,” the prince explained, gleeful as Ignis had never seen him before. “It was just something the empire-”

“Ah-hem.”

Ignis cleared his throat pointedly, and the two jumped apart, as if they had forgotten they were in public. Well, not completely apart, Ignis noticed - Noctis hadn’t quite given up his grip on Prompto’s lapel.

“Not to ruin the mood, but perhaps we should move this little celebration to somewhere a little more private?” he suggested.

“Right,” Noctis said, nodding. “Yeah. My place?”

“I will escort you there,” Ignis said. Noctis shot him a _look_ then, and he chuckled. “I won’t be staying, I promise. But I did tell your father that I would make sure you arrived home safely.”

“Here, I’ll get this,” Prompto offered, picking up their empty tray and taking it to the trash receptacle.

Ignis and Noctis followed at a slower pace, watching as the blonde separated out their garbage, placing their used plates into the appropriate bins to be washed and throwing the paper materials into the trash.

“Did you know?” Noctis asked suddenly.

“Know what, Noct?”

“What he was planning.”

“Not at all,” Ignis said truthfully. “I did think it odd that he was missing from the afternoon council meetings, but I assumed he was doing something important.” He fixed the prince with a pointed smile. “I suppose I was right.”  

“He told me it was something you said that made up his mind.”

“Something _I_ said?” Ignis repeated, surprised.

“Yeah. He said when you told him about my mark, you mentioned that it had made me happy. That you wanted me to be happy.”

So he had. It had been a minor thing, really, a small insertion of his own thoughts and opinions into the verbal report he had given the King. Apparently, it had not gone unnoticed.

“I do want you to be happy, Noct,” Ignis said lightly. “You know that.”

The prince smiled at _him_ then, and Ignis felt some of the day’s tension roll of his shoulders, falling away as if had never been. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “I owe you, Specs. Big time.”

Perhaps he did. But Ignis wasn’t one to keep track of such things, not with Noctis.

He felt unreasonably emotional, and he forced himself to clear his throat, blinking his eyes rather rapidly to clear the wetness he suddenly found there. He pulled off his glasses and scrubbed at them furiously. “I seem to have smudged my glasses,” he said lamely, wiping them only halfheartedly on his jacket.

Noctis knew what he was really doing, but he was good enough not to say anything.

Prompto joined them a moment later. “Ready?” he asked brightly, oblivious to the conversation that he had missed.

“Lead on,” Ignis instructed, settling his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah,” Noctis said, reaching out to grab Prompto’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

* * * * *

By the time Ignis had ensured that the prince and Prompto had properly settled into Noctis’ apartment for the weekend - with food, water, and by the Six, _condoms_ \- it was after five o’clock. He rushed back to his apartments as the sun slowly began to sink in the sky, throwing brilliantly colored beams of pink and orange across the Citadel floors.

He had just enough time, he thought - just enough time to shower and make himself presentable before Gladio arrived. To be honest, his appearance was probably perfectly acceptable as it was - none of his tasks today had been particularly strenuous, and he wasn’t overly sweaty. But he felt the need to bathe just the same, to get clean before his friend came over to visit.

 _No_ , he corrected himself. His soulmate.  

He had just finished toweling off when he heard a knock at the door. Hastily, he pulled on the closest set of clothing that he could find. It happened to be a gray henley that was tighter across the chest than he would have liked and a pair of loose cotton pants that he normally reserved for sleeping. It would have to do, he supposed. He chanced a glance at himself in the mirror as he made to leave the room - his hair had survived the shower, at least, remaining reasonably intact.

Thank the Six for industrial-strength hair gel.

There was a second knock just as Ignis reached the door, swinging it open as soon as the noise had ceased to reveal Gladiolus Amicitia. 

“Gladio,” he breathed, drinking in the man’s appearance.

He had always known Gladio to be a handsome man. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him. But he had never really _looked_ at him before, never really taken the time to study him. It had always seemed improper, and then, once he had recognized his feelings for his friend, it hadn’t been something he had allowed himself. He hadn’t let himself see the way the amber of his eyes shifted with the light, sometimes more golden and sometimes a darker brown. He hadn’t let himself see how the other’s lower lip was much fuller than the upper one, or how sharp his cheekbones were from the side.

Now, he memorized each small detail in the space of a moment, committing them to his mind before he moved aside, allowing the other into his apartment.

“I heard the King spoke to Noct,” the larger man said in lieu of a greeting, taking his jacket off and slinging it over the back of a chair. He turned to Ignis, hands settling in the pockets of his pants. “That true?”

“Indeed,” Ignis replied, letting the door close and moving to join the other in his living room. He kept a bit of space between them, as much as he dared. It was perhaps three feet.

“What’d he want?”

Ignis supposed that this was something he should keep quiet, sensitive information that shouldn’t be given to just anyone. But Gladio wasn’t just anyone, was he? And as Noctis' sworn shield, he was likely to find out anyways.

“It would seem that he decided to take the matter of Noctis’ soulmark into his own hands,” he admitted.

“Yeah?”

“He has annulled the betrothal to Lady Lunafreya,” Ignis continued, “though entirely in secret, of course. Publicly, the match is still very much to occur.”

“Damn,” Gladio said, grinning even as he shook his head. “Regis doesn’t do anything by halves, does he?”

“Noctis said that the King wishes to see him happy.”

“Does Prompto know about this?”

“The two of them are in Noct’s apartment as we speak.”

Gladio lifted an eyebrow, his grin morphing into more of a leer. “You make sure they have all the necessaries?” he asked.

Ignis rolled his eyes. “Of course I did,” he snapped. “The King wants Prompto to remain in the Citadel all weekend, just to ensure his safety.”

“A whole weekend?” Gladio chuckled. “Hopefully you bought enough.”

“Well, if I haven’t, _you_ can go and get them more,” Ignis retorted.

Gladio didn’t seem bothered by this in the slightest. “So,” he said, moving to sit down on the couch. “Happy as I am to hear about the situation with Noct, I don’t think that’s what you wanted to talk to about. Was it?”

“It wasn’t,” Ignis admitted. He remained where he was standing, a hand gripping the chair before him so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn’t trust himself to sit beside his friend just yet; he was still too high-strung, the momentary peace of the afternoon evaporating. 

“Then what’s up?” Gladio was completely relaxed, leaning back into the cushions and slinging an arm over the back. “You sounded really faint on the phone, almost like you were sick or something.” He eyed Ignis curiously. “You weren’t, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t - am not - sick,” Ignis said quickly. “It’s…” He let out a wry snort. “It’s difficult to begin.”

“Well, why don’t you start by sitting down?” Gladio suggested, patting the seat beside him.

“I would rather stand.”

“...Okay.”

Ignis considered how best to phrase what he had to say. He had wanted to plan out everything that he needed to tell Gladio, write it all down almost as if it were a speech. But between the meeting with the King and entertaining Prompto, he hadn’t had the time, and now he felt woefully unprepared.

Still, he pressed on. This was something he must do.

“Do you recall that night, three and a half years ago?” he began. “You came to Noct’s apartment, but you wanted to speak to me. You asked… you asked if I had gotten my soulmark yet.”

“I remember,” Gladio said softly.

“And I told you that I had,” Ignis continued, “that I had received my mark, but that I didn’t know who it was.”

“Yeah.” Gladio frowned then. “Did you find them? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“I…” Ignis exhaled slowly, his breath shaking. It sounded almost like a laugh. “Of sorts, yes.”

“That’s - that’s great, Iggy, really,” Gladio replied. His voice sounded strange to Ignis, almost strangled. As if he were trying to be happy when he felt nothing of the sort.

Ignis realized what the other must be thinking then, and walked over to where his jacket hung on a rack near the door. He reached a hand into the pocket, withdrawing the receipt from the restaurant where they had had lunch. He had taken it with them, even though he didn't think he was supposed to have done so. He had been unable to bear parting with this, with the evidence of his discovery. The paper was slightly crumpled now from being stuffed into a pocket for several hours, but Ignis smoothed it out.

The signature at the bottom was still plain to see.

Wordlessly, he went and handed the receipt to Gladio. He took it, frowning up at Ignis in confusion. “Uh, thanks?” he said. “But what does this have to do with-”

“I didn’t know,” Ignis interjected. He was trembling at this point, his body actually quaking in anticipation. He did his best to suppress the nervous response, but of course that only served to make things worse. “I was so stupid, Gladio, I didn’t even _think_ to look-”

“Hey, slow down,” Gladio said, setting the receipt to the side. He stood up, taking a few steps closer to Ignis. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I never once thought about it,” Ignis continued. Now that he was letting loose the truth, he found that he could not stop, the words pouring from his mouth. “I never once considered it, even when I started being able to sense your emotions, I never _once_ thought it was something other than friendship. I can’t believe I never saw it, Gladio, and I am so, _so_ sorry. And you told me, that night, that you had gotten your mark, and that it was someone you knew, and-”

Gladio’s eyes had gone wide with shock, and he took another step closer. “Iggy?” It was all he said, that one little word, but there was a weight behind it, the weight of a hundred questions ready to burst forth from his lips.

Ignis drew a deep, shuddering breath and stepped backwards, pulling his shirt off and letting it slip from his fingers. “I couldn’t read it,” he pleaded, begging the other’s forgiveness, “And I never thought to ask.”

Gladio reached out for him, his eyes not leaving Ignis’. His hands were warm, Ignis noticed, and gentle, as he slowly turned Ignis to the side and moved his arm out of the way, revealing the small, untidy mark scratched into his skin. He waited a moment - one single, infinitely long moment - before looking down at the mark he had exposed. And then he was staring, blinking at the mark in utter incomprehension.

“This is-”

“I didn’t know it until today,” Ignis said. “When I saw the receipt. I never knew it was _yours._ ”

Gladio’s eyes flicked back up to his face. He was close to Ignis now, closer than they had ever been outside of the sparring ring, and despite his anxiety, Ignis felt warm all over, too hot despite his bare chest. Had Gladio’s gaze even been so intense before, so directly focused on him? Had his hands ever been touching Ignis’ naked torso before, big and gentle and strong?

But then Gladio released him, taking a step back, and the warm feeling was replaced with a hollow, yearning feeling, and he thought perhaps he had messed up for good, that this wasn't something he could fix. He looked up at Gladio, hoping to sense what the other was feeling, but all he could feel was the churning, roiling sense of his own nervousness. Did that mean Gladio was nervous too? Or was he purposefully dampening his emotions? Was he-

Before he could finish this train of thought, Gladio had reached behind his back and pulled off his own shirt, letting it join Ignis’ on the floor. Wordlessly, he turned to the side, bringing Ignis’ hand up to meet the skin at the side of his torso.

_Ignis._

He recognized his own signature, marked on the other’s skin as clearly as if he had written it. He pressed his palm to it, and beneath his fingers, he could feel the other’s heart beating against his ribcage. It was fast, strong and staccato.

“Iggy,” Gladio tried, but his voice broke halfway through the name, and he stopped, shaking his head.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Gladio looked up at him, startled. “Forgive you?” he repeated. To Ignis’ surprise, he chuckled, and the noise sliced through the tension like a knife. “Gods, Ignis, you-” He stopped, bringing both of his hands up frame Ignis’ face, to hold it steady as he stared straight at him. “You are something else.”

And then he surged forward, pressing his lips to Ignis’ in a searing, enthusiastic kiss.

Ignis moaned into his mouth, the feeling of Gladio’s lips moving against his even better than it had been in his dreams. They were soft, incredibly so, pliant against his own, and he tasted sweet, perfect. He pressed in closer, unable to get enough of the heady feeling kissing Gladio gave him.

At some point, Gladio backed them up so that Ignis’ back was against the wall. Ignis gave a little gasp as the cold surface hit his bare skin, and Gladio slipped his tongue inside Ignis’ mouth then, deepening the kiss. His hands had moved from Ignis’ face, one at his hip and the other having fallen to his neck, thumb sitting right atop the pulse point at the hollow where his collarbones met. Ignis, for his part, could not stop touching Gladio - his arms, his chest, his back, his sides, fingers circling the spot where he knew the other’s soulmark was…

Gladio twitched every time his fingers brushed over it, as if it were hypersensitized. Ignis delighted in the small, breathy noises his movements evoked, loved each and every one of them he was able to wring from the other.

“That feels good,” Gladio murmured, pulling back just enough to pull Ignis’ lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it just hard enough to elicit a whine.

“Does it?”

Gladio moved the hand he had on Ignis’ hip up to his ribcage, running his forefinger over the mark. Ignis shuddered violently at the heady spike of heat that lanced through him at the contact. It had to have been psychosomatic, he knew, for there was no explanation as to why that patch of skin would be more sensitive than any other, but he found that he did not care, and he pushed his torso up into Gladio’s hand more firmly, moaning when the other touched his mark again.

“Dammit, it _is_ good,” he breathed, his composure slipping enough for him to let out a light curse.

“Yeah?” Gladio moved his mouth to the column of Ignis’ throat, easing his lips over the soft skin just beneath his ear. Every so often, he would pull a bit of skin into his mouth, teasing it ever so slightly, releasing it just before he left a mark. Ignis’ breath caught each time he did this, blunt nails digging into the skin of Gladio’s strong back. It was good, _so_ good, it was amazing, and to think, he’d once thought he would only ever get to do this in his fantasies…

Abruptly, Gladio pulled away, looking down at Ignis carefully. “I can’t believe this is real,” he muttered, leaning down so their foreheads were touching. “It feels like a dream.”

Ignis knew exactly what he meant. “Is it a good dream?” he asked.

“Very,” Gladio said, pressing their lips together once, twice, and then one more time still. “I never thought…”

He didn’t have to finish the thought. Ignis nodded in understanding. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “This is all my fault.”

“Don’t,” Gladio warned, shushing him with another kiss. “Can’t do anything about it now.” He kissed Ignis again, his mouth lingering, and Ignis felt weak at the knees. “But this… this is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Ignis replied, frowning at Gladio's sudden hesitance. “Why would you-”

Ah, but he hadn’t exactly hidden his viewpoints on the idea of soulmates, now had he? In fact, he could recall at least six times where he had quite thoroughly disparaged it.

“I don’t want you doing this because you feel like you have to.”

“No,” Ignis said quickly, desperate to make Gladio understand the truth, that he _loved_ him, that he wanted him  _in spite of_ the Crystal, not just because of it, “You don’t understand. I - I’ve wanted this for a long time, Gladio… long before I had things figured out.”

“You did?” Gladio sounded surprised, and he pulled back a little farther so that he could see Ignis more clearly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think it was fair,” Ignis admitted, “not if you were still looking for your soulmate.” He looked away, his red cheeks betraying him.

Gladio put a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up. “I wasn’t,” he said. “But it turned out he found me anyway.”  

Ignis' cheeks burned.

"I wanted to say something for so long," Gladio continued. "I wanted to tell you the truth."

"Why didn't you?" Ignis asked.

"Honestly? I never knew how." He shook his head. "Can you believe that I thought maybe we'd been mismatched? That the Crystal had given me your name, and you someone else's? And then I remembered how you never seemed to like the idea of soulmates, and I thought you wouldn't want to be with me either way." Ignis felt the spike of pain that ran through Gladio as keenly as if it was his own, and he grimaced.

"I'm an idiot," he said simply. "Or entirely self-absorbed."

"Maybe. A bit." Gladio's eyes went very soft then. "But I wouldn't have you any other way."

This time, it was Ignis who surged forward to connect their mouths. Gladio returned the kiss with ardor, lifting Ignis completely off the ground  so that their heights were equal. Startled, Ignis raised his legs, folding them around the other’s waist to maintain his balance. Gladio made an approving sound at this, and pressed forward, deepening the kiss.

Ignis brought his arms up, encircling Gladio’s neck. With one hand, he grabbed a fistful of dark hair and pulled. It was something he had wanted to do for the longest time, something he did in his most explicit, _wonderful_ dreams, and the groan Gladio gave him in response was perhaps the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He repeated the action, pulling hard enough this time that Gladio’s mouth went slack against his.

“Fuck, Iggy,” he breathed.

And then he was leaning back in, shoving Ignis higher up the wall so that he could press his mouth to the bare skin of his torso. Ignis gasped when his tongue found a nipple, flicking it teasingly before heading further south, across firm, flat abdominal muscle and taut skin. His head fell back against the wall, mouth hanging open with abandon, as Gladio worshipped his torso, licking here, biting there, returning to suck at a hard, brown nipple. He was a mess, coming completely undone before the man beneath him, and it was perfection.

He slipped a little, the wall scraping his back, and they were level again. Unthinkingly, Ignis pressed upwards, intending to scoot himself back up. In so doing, he pressed his hips into Gladio, and the both of them groaned at the intense pleasure it caused.

Ignis froze, suddenly very aware of the open window not five feet away and the small gap beneath his front door.

Gladio pulled away, looking up at him questioningly. “Bedroom?” he suggested.

“Yes, please,” Ignis breathed.

There was a tangled mess of limbs and clothing as the two of them headed for Ignis’ bedroom while simultaneously removing the rest of their clothing. Once or twice, they had to catch each other before they fell into a messy heap on the floor. But somehow they made it, and Ignis collapsed onto the bed in relief, Gladio settling atop him a moment later.

It was a warm, comforting weight, pressing Ignis deep into the mattress, but not crushing. Gladio seemed aware of his bulk, and distributed his weight evenly on his legs and arms even as he bore down with his hips, making Ignis’ toes curl up in want. “Gods, that’s-”

“Good, yeah?”

“Gladio, please, I need-” He broke off with a strangled moan as Gladio canted his hips down again, more firmly this time.

“Like that?”

“ _Yes._ ”

The next time, when Gladio pressed down, Ignis pressed up, and the both of them groaned at the sensation. Ignis felt hot, too hot, and yet he couldn’t help but press upwards into the heat of Gladio’s body, desperate for more. Gladio seemed to mimic this desire, arms wrapping around Ignis so tightly it was almost painful, but Ignis could not get enough. The heat, the friction, the taste of Gladio’s mouth on his, the dark, spicy smell of his soap combined with the ever present scents of leather and steel that he exuded…

Ignis shivered despite the heat, craving more, more of everything and anything Gladio could give him. “Gladio,” he murmured, pushing back on the other’s chest.

Instantly, Gladio stilled, propping himself up on an arm. “What is it?” he murmured. His eyes had gone dark with desire, Ignis noted, amber almost completely eclipsed with black, and his lips were swollen from kissing. He was certain that he looked similarly debauched, but he couldn’t be bothered with that right now.

“I want-” He stopped, unsure of how to articulate exactly what he wanted.

But Gladio seemed to know what it was anyways. “Yeah?” he asked. “Have you ever-”

“No.”

“Me neither.” Gladio sat back on his heels, and Ignis looked down at his cock, hard and heavy between his legs. The other was big, he realized with a hot, fresh stab of want. He had to stifle another moan, concealing it by biting his lip.

It was only then that he realized what Gladio had just said. “Never?” he asked, surprised.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Gladio huffed, teasing.

“But I would’ve thought-”

Gladio shook his head. “I knew what I wanted,” he said quietly. “And it wasn’t just random sex.”

Ignis’ throat felt tight, too tight, and he swallowed, trying to ease the pressure. But Gladio was too busy to notice his sudden silence, rifling through one of Ignis’ bedside tables. “I _do_ know we need something - ha! Got it.” He pulled out a small bottle of lubricant, the one Ignis had hidden in the very back behind his spare notebooks.

He spilled some of this onto his hand, running the oily liquid across his fingers, and then turned to Ignis. “Scoot down,” he said, patting the bedspread in front of him, and Ignis willingly obliged. He gasped when Gladio reached down and firmly gripped his cock, giving him a few experimental strokes before slipping his other hand between Ignis’ legs, pressing gently at his entrance.

Ignis did his best to relax as the first finger pushed inside, but it was a strange, alien sort of feeling, and he squirmed. Gladio, sensing his discomfort, squeezed his cock, hard, twisting up from base to tip, and he went boneless, huffing out a small moan.

“Relax,” Gladio murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again. “I think it’ll be easier that way.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ignis retorted, but he tried to do as the other instructed, forcing his muscles to relax when Gladio added a second finger. It helped that the other kept a firm grip on his cock, slowly stroking him in time with the movements of his other hand. Soon, Ignis barely felt the pressure, lost in a haze of pleasure, and when Gladio added a third finger, he felt nothing but heat.

All too soon, Gladio released him and withdrew his fingers. Ignis whined mournfully at this, but Gladio was already tearing the wrapper off a condom, sliding it on and adding a bit more lubricant.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Ignis once again, not even bothering to close his eyes. “Ready?” he murmured. His voice was low, husky; Ignis hurriedly nodded. And then he groaned, Gladio pushing inside him, slow and steady. It was uncomfortable at first, a dull, steady ache that he knew he would feel the next day, but Gladio was still leaning over him, pressing feather light kisses to his face, his neck, his jaw. He waited until Ignis was ready, and then, when Ignis experimentally rocked his hips, he moved.

"Good" was an entirely inadequate description for the pleasure that sparked within him. It was like wildfire, spreading through his body with every one of Gladio's thrusts. Finally, one particular thrust went especially deep, and Ignis felt as though the bottom had fallen out of his stomach. He moaned, low and heavy, nails digging into the skin of Gladio’s back.

“ _Do that again,_ ” he breathed.

Gladio was all too willing to comply, picking him up by the hips to change the angle a bit, and he hit that spot again - once, twice, three times in quick succession, and Ignis felt nothing but white-hot pleasure.

“Gods!”

Even mid-thrust as he was, Gladio found it in himself to chuckle. “Just Gladio will be fine,” he joked. But then he thrust forward again, burying himself deep, and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Their world quickly reduced to the two of them, their game of push and pull, of delirious pleasure. It was too much, Ignis thought, too amazingly good, and he knew it would soon be over.

“I can’t last much longer,” Ignis panted. “Gladio, please-”

Gladio seemed to be right there with him, thrusts gone erratic and shallow. He reached down between them, grabbing at Ignis’ cock, getting in a few strokes before he came, groaning deep in his throat and half-collapsing atop him. Ignis reached down, grasping himself firmly, and within moments, he too found his release, joining the other in limp, hazy delight.

For several long minutes, neither of them could speak. They simply lay there in a sweaty, tangled mess, too sated to do anything more than listen to their slowing breaths.

Gladio recovered first, pulling away so that he could remove the condom and retrieve a washrag from the bathroom. He cleaned himself up first, and then bent down, gently wiping off Ignis’ belly. Ignis watched him as he moved, unable to keep a lazy grin from spreading across his face.

“What’re you smiling at?” Gladio demanded, returning to Ignis’ side and snuggling in tight.

“You.” He turned onto his side, throwing an arm over the other’s waist and drawing him in close. They kissed again, and this time it was slow and sweet.

Gladio broke the kiss, drawing back with a soft smile on his face. “Are you happy?” he asked.

“Gladio, I can honestly say that I have never been this happy before in my life.”

“Even though you ended up with your soulmate after all?”

Ignis considered this. “Perhaps the Crystal knows what it is doing. Somewhat. As much as a magical rock formation _can_ know what it is doing,” he begrudgingly admitted.

Gladio chuckled and pulled him in tight. “Gods, Ignis,” he muttered. “I love you.”

It might have surprised Ignis, were he not capable of feeling the depth of the other’s emotions through the bond they had just completed. As it was, he still felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of the other’s love, washing him over like a blissful, warm wave.

“I know,” he murmured, ducking his head beneath Gladio’s chin. How had he missed this? _How?_

“Stop beating yourself up over it.” Ignis pulled back, surprised, to see Gladio grinning at him. “The bond works both ways, you know. I can tell when you feel guilty.”

Ignis pursed his lips at being caught. He _hadn’t_ thought of that.

Gladio just chuckled and kissed him again, and together they drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this, and hopefully it was at least somewhat enjoyable :)
> 
> I am planning to do a side piece with Prompto and Noctis set in this same universe, just telling their side of things. When I finish that, I'll link it to this one so they're a set.
> 
> Feedback is always much appreciated, if you feel like it :)


End file.
